Jab, Cross, Hook

The smell of dust and sweat and leather fills the room. Punching bags hang in precise rows, immovable in the presence of industrial fans and re-mixed 90s hip hop. “I’m gonna knock you out; Momma said knock you out!” I slowly wrap my hands and wrists, weaving the fabric between each finger, stabilizing each moving part…

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Watching Out the Window

These days I spend a lot of time staring out of the window. As I’ve aged, I’ve become more of an internal processor. I balance all of the competing priorities in my life: person, wife, mother, daughter, doctoral student, executive, friend, minister. So, while sitting in front of the window, I entertain a carousel of…

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Picking Up Stones

If you ever find a picture of me from my senior year in high school, you will not find the traditional hallmarks of 1990’s grunge. Rather, you will find a tie-dye wearing, sandaled, all-natural kind of gal who was clearly reacting to the world around her. My backpack was littered with greatest hits discs of…

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Off The Clock

There is no doubt in my mind I am beginning to be “of a certain age.” I am not 100% sure what that means, but I see myself consistently eyeing yoga pants during the weekday with a degree of longing. I also put down a pair of heels to buy a reasonably priced mock-Birkenstock shoe. …

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More at Forty

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, salty streaks pooling in my developing wrinkles.  My husband came in to the sound of deep sighs mixed with hard sniffs. I had come upstairs to change out of my pajamas when I sat on the edge of the bed and wondered how I’d gotten…

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