stout-hearted

i’m going through the motions.  laundry.  dishes.  downstairs in the basement i hear change in my son’s jeans as i go to put them in the washing machine.  i dig around in the pocket and bring out three coins.  they feel like quarters in my hand, but when i look at them, i see three

and i’m so glad

joshua and i celebrated 19 years of marriage a couple of weeks ago.  the first four years of it there were no children.  no mazzy.  no abe.  no ella. i remember the counseling and the fighting.  i remember how hard it was to suddenly be married in a new city where i knew no one.

unanswered prayers

my dad was back in the stacks and the snow wasn’t stopping outside.  big, fat snowflakes falling themselves down on the lucky streets of ann arbor, michigan.  i looked over and saw my husband considering yet another collection of words to stick into his brain. what a beautiful night. my mother was watching the kids.

hand me that baby!

christmas was as close as i came to jesus as a child. i wasn’t told the story.  there wasn’t a countdown to the manger in my house.  i didn’t hear about the blessed virgin turned away at the inn ad nauseum. instead my brother and i helped my mom assemble the christmas tree in the

dwelling places

“do not let your hearts be troubled.  believe in god, believe also in me.” a few weeks back i took a risk. i have a precious friend.  maybe you have one.  i say precious because you feel the luck when you’re with them.  they are a kind of marvel across the table from you and

voting is cool

i like voting. i like being anonymous and alone in a voting booth.  i like how quiet it is and how no one else can come in, look over my shoulder and tell me who to vote for. i like the polished gymnasium floors i have to walk across and the people sitting in metal