Scrolling Through Time

One of the first pictures I posted to Instagram was of a smashed banana with googly eyes. I believe the caption said, “Look what I found on my pillow. I squashed it. #evil #friends.” How absurd. That was pure, authentic, youthful Haley right there. I keep scrolling to find more pictures from my college years—pictures…

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The Voice of God

Errreeeeooooo-errreeeeooooo-errreeeeoooooo-errreeeeooooo. I looked down after sitting attached to the human milking machine (if you know, you know) for 35 minutes only to see 1 ounce total compiled by my milk machines. After so much of my time and life connected to that damn pump, I was so over it. 

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I Know the Type

I thought I knew her type.  It was the second time I had seen her come to church but the first time we ever interacted. She was a bit older, sort of mousy, and she walked up to me with a red baseball hat tucked under one arm and a John MacArthur Study Bible under…

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Grace Is the Way

She looked at me with tears in her eyes, as if she was seen for the first time. Between the tissue sopping up her wet face and deep sighs, she said, “I don’t know what I did wrong. I can’t escape his mental and emotional manipulation even though we aren’t even together anymore. I’ve been…

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Taking a Tumble

Finally. After weeks of pain shooting up my spine and into my neck, I was finally getting some relief. I had been okay with makeshift back-cracking mechanisms—over my desk chair, bending over with my arms pushing against the wall until I felt a crrrriiiickkk go up my back—but that could not go on any longer.…

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Leaning into the Absurd

It was 3:57 AM. As I bounced back and forth, back and forth, listening to the combination of my “sh sh sshhh” and the creaking of the floor boards beneath my unslippered toes, I stared at the canvas on the wall across from our bed that says, “Be still and know.” I’d been up since…

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The God of Postpartum

I’m not entirely sure how I’m functioning right now. Four weeks ago I could barely carry on a cohesive conversation because my mouth literally could not make words based on what was happening in my brain. This morning I am sitting with a mug of lactation hot chocolate in hand, listening to the baby monitor…

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An Ending of Sorts

I stepped on the downtown pavement for the first time in months, surrounded by masked bodies holding make-shift cardboard signs with words written in paint or permanent marker, saying things like, “I CAN’T BREATHE,” or “NO JUSTICE NO PEACE,” or “SAY HIS NAME—GEORGE FLOYD.” 

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The Inner Child

I place a hand on my heart and a hand on my belly. I take a deep breath in and say, “How can I best nurture and honor and serve you today?”

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Sackcloth and Ashes

The second full sermon I ever preached as a part of my preaching class in seminary was based on the book of Jonah. I had spent an entire semester learning the book in its original language. Up until then, my knowledge and even experience reading the book of Jonah was minimal and superficial to be…

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