cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I am familiar with goodbyes. I said goodbye to my innocence at 4-years-old. From ages 4 to 12, I buried my voice in an effort to extinguish the ongoing abuse and survive. By age 13 I had learned that my sadness engendered pity and my sexuality, attention. Male parents for whom I babysat groped for…
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I finger the three separate baggies in my hand. They contain the remains of my father (age 95; died February 16, 2019), my mother (age 96; died July 22, 2020), and my youngest brother, John (age 64; died February 19, 2022). My two older sisters and I gather on the Oregon coast to celebrate the…
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I glance around the table at them as they take their respective seats. It has been an incredible ten-year journey of fits, starts, defeats, reboots, re-entries, failures, and beginning again. But with each descent into the darkness I emerge to sit at this table with more light, more humility, more grit—and more of my true…
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Listen to your body. I have heard this phrase in many settings over the last few years but gave minimal attention to its meaning and even less effort to its implied demand. Bessel van der Kolk writes of it extensively (The Body Keeps the Score, 2014). I have read the book seven times. Resmaa Menake…
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Sadly, the body of Christ has often failed to see trauma as a place of service…I think a look at suffering humanity would lead to the realization that trauma is perhaps the greatest mission field of the twenty-first century. (Diane Landberg, 2015, Suffering and the Heart of God, p. 8) Almost eleven years have passed…
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“I killed my brother! I killed my brother!” I scream as I run into the street after the ambulance. “No, honey, you did not kill your brother,” my kind neighbor, Lois, pulls me close her voice purring into my numb unhearing ears. “He’ll be okay. It was an accident…an accident.” So many times I’ve been…
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A man’s steps are ordered by the Lord; how then can man understand his way? (Proverbs 20:24 RSV) We sleep in separate rooms. That has been our norm for over two years. It is preservation for us both. But I didn’t want to leave his side that Monday night. They worked him in at the…
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The kitchen clock breaks the silence of the early morning as I wait for the Keurig drip to complete its work, reminding me that the demands of the day have begun. Coffee and quiet reflection, reading, solace and contemplation must fit neatly into increments metered out by the demands of the day. Numbers soldier their…
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It’s 4:30 a.m. and I am already awake in the darkness of this rainy winter morning. I’ve tried to sleep later but sleep evades. I have an appointment with a therapist today. I am anxious and fretful, wondering what it will be like. Will we communicate well? Will I feel heard, seen?
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As I drove onto campus recently to begin my fifth year as a full-time faculty member at Milligan College, my thoughts turned to the first time I drove onto Buffalo Nation’s territory as an applicant for the advertised position. It was early June, and the beauty of the area was simply stunning.
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