Turning Words

I walked through the grocery store, loading my cart as if it were a normal day. The white paper cup in the cart cup holder was stained with dribbles of coffee that had seeped from underneath the white plastic lid. Ruby lipstick residue garishly proclaimed the cup mine. I had just set it down when…

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She Is Here, and She Wears White

I listened with the suspended premonition that accompanies “one of those moments.” A moment often accompanied by a niggling prod to pay attention—something pivotal is about to happen. 

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I Hold You, Big Girl

A couple of years ago, I asked my 80-something dad, “What was I like as a toddler?” He laughed at the chaotic memory of those days, “Oh, you were always holding on to your mom’s leg, begging to be picked up.” I asked what happened next.

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Wisdom’s Workbench

She was so young, so naïve.  Face smooth, laugh lines just beginning to form, and eyes pooling with tears as she wondered, “what shall I do?” Her good friend, Fear convinced her that no matter what she did, she would as easily be wrong as right. It might have been a parenting decision or the…

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Waking From a Nap with a Heart of Flesh

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. (Ezek. 36:26-27) Day…

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The Cracks Are Showing

It was opening the gate that did it.  As the vinyl slats scraped across the cement sidewalk, like fingernails on a chalkboard, I felt the layers of irritation that had piled on over the past weeks expose a crack in my intentionally cheerful veneer.

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I am afraid

Last night, a writing prompt was given to a lovely group of sisters with whom I was virtually gathering.  For a moment or so, we were to write about fear. I didn’t know what I was afraid of, but I was soon to find out.  As a single woman, living alone, I live a life…

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Life to Take, Life to Give

Tonight, my thoughts are full of her. It has been seven months since my friend and colleague left. That summer night, as the sun was disappearing behind the basswood tree, the call came. I had finished mowing the lawn and noticed the white letters of a friend’s name across the black screen of my phone.…

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A Broken Hallelujah

This morning, I left church weeping.  At the close of a lovely Advent service, we sang the song, “Hallelujah.” I’m sure you’ve heard it. The lyrics, written by Leonard Cohen more than 20 years ago, have been sung by many. This morning, that song landed hard on a tender bruise.

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