i’d been at michigan state for maybe two full days. my roommate, stacey, played soccer. she’d put up a clock that looked like a soccer ball. the first night after my parents dropped me off she told me there was a party on the third floor and left a can of beer on the dresser for me.
these days of muted light feel just about right. sometimes my heart feels wide open, easily accessible, like the bright blue. but not lately. no, when the sun gets further away, a thin sheet of ice weathered from the events and circumstances of the year forms. the thin places turn into visible pools of murky,
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
(this article originally appeared in catapult magazine. the topic has been on my mind, so i thought i’d bring her back out and put a new dress on her.) A close friend knocked on our door a few weeks after our daughter was born. He told us he’d waited these six weeks before coming by,
the lord is close to the brokenhearted; he saves those whose spirits are crushed. our friend tells us that he’s been tore up ever since his mother died and i’m thinking that he doesn’t know how right he is. the words brokenhearted in the bible translate in the hebrew like this: to tear the inner man
prayer books assume a lot. they take for granted that a body needs to take time to pray at least three times a day. at least. i’m being towed up on a line. i am mentally preparing myself to tube down a ski hill. when i do, the first few seconds feel like a
i’m more disturbed that my government shot and killed an unarmed woman than that it’s in the midst of shut down. miriam carey was in a compromised mental state brought about by postpartum depression. i don’t know her. i don’t know her story. but she had one. from all accounts she was a law-abiding citizen.
i really don’t know what to tell you. i don’t have words and the words i have i don’t like. i feel like detroit. all the people are gone. the people who come around aren’t good enough. and the ones who never left? well, i’m tired of them. dissatisfied detroit. will any word ever be
“the vision god gives is not a castle in the air, but a vision of what god wants you to be. let him put you on his wheel and whirl you as he likes, and as sure as god is god and you are you, you will turn out exactly in accordance with the vision.
what comes after a god-sized dream? i’m on my knees, leaning over a bathtub. again. i’m sitting on the living room floor folding clothes, watching television. again. i’m putting forks where forks go, spoons with spoons. my everyday is to make the small world of this family work. everyday. but what of god-sized dreams? there