For Natasha

This is not a eulogy. This is a wild ce-le-bra-tion. Lived out in staccato, fast breaths and clapped hands. This is a reverie of light that actively stomped the darkness. She was a determined, defiant dance. This is ce-le-bra-tion. She was coffee and cocoa-bean, sugar cane and deep earth. Caribbean and cradle of civilization. She was…

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A Pinch of Salt

Since quarantine, I have done a ton of baking. It’s a craft that tidily fits into all the buckets that connect with my soul: practical, part art, part science, that is done when it is done. It is artistic efficiency. Yet as I measure out my thoughts in ounces and teaspoons, I am in my…

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For the Outsiders

This one is for the outsiders. The ones who walk into a room and wonder if they’re going to find a friend. If people are going to see them, welcome them. “Will I be overdressed? Underdressed? Will I say the right thing? Will they think my jokes are funny?” This is for the ones who,…

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The Wounded Hunter

At the end of 2020, I was scrolling through my Instagram account, hunting for last-minute Christmas baking ideas, when I caught my breath. Along with the myriad of travel, baking and religious writers I follow, I also follow a few accounts focused on the Enneagram. What I saw in late December stopped me in my…

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The Wisest Woman I Know

2021 had one job.  And it was to not be 2020. In retrospect, I don’t know how we could have anticipated a different outcome. I will own my own sense of eternal optimism, or at least belief in my own grit. So here we are. 2021 squeezing me to the point of emotional and spiritual…

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The Haunting

Like much of America, we got a Coronatide puppy, long-legged and rambunctious. It is my job to walk him first thing in the morning so he doesn’t chew the table legs while I’m conference-calling. It’s a work-from-home season, and he doesn’t understand I have four more Zoom meetings to go.

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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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