maybe your family tree is a little bit of a thicket. a gnarled bramble of fallen and crisscrossed limbs and branches. the holidays approaching might tick towards you like an unstoppable hour and put your origin story front in center in your mind. just how did you arrive on this planet? its been a weekend
Categoryforgiveness
moms forgiving children forgiving moms
i broke ella’s tea cup. she found a set at an estate sale that was pretty perfect and upon carrying it in from the yard, it slipped from my hand. way to go, mom. its tough not to venerate your mother. to gloss over the past and the short comings and hope your own children
the reliable enemy of good friday
our cat is pretty reliable in this way – if we open a window, soon the cat will appear there on its ledge. he can also always be found when we open the back door, trying to run out between our feet and prowl these flowering yards. the other day he caught a bird in
the mother of god
one place in my heart holds a grudge against humanity and all my friends. weddings and birthday parties. whenever i catch wind of another girl’s birthday party happening with no invitation for mazzy, i plot a little murder in my heart. every time i see friend’s daughters walk down the aisle trailing after our dearly
tell me the old, old story before i hurt someone
i’m remembering last night. i’m remembering the tone of his voice when he interrupted me. i’m remembering the exasperated sighs when he had to do what i do all the time for children. i’m remembering his apology that seemed half-hearted. i’m making a list of the wrongs done to me. i’m fueling unforgiveness in my
the memory of the heart
it’s late at night when my mind and heart are vulnerable to old words spoken. words that were jumbled together any way you like, but always say the same thing. “i reject you.” “you are unwanted.” “you are unloved.” these stupid words from a person who has no memory of speaking them, they can stick around like
and the shepherd is the gate
we’re sitting in a mexican restaurant and one of us or the other says it. “we sound hurt.” when the words of a person who’s been hurt by the church and the sentences coming out of your mouth match up it can be awkward. but it’s a start. jesus says he’s the gate and the
forgiveness for the sake of the marriage bed
“so how’s your sex life?” this is a question that is usually read from the front of a glossy magazine in the check-out aisle or said in a counseling office when things aren’t going so well. this question she decides to ask me while we’re drinking coffee in her kitchen. i froze. and i did
tell a better story
we barely dragged ourselves to church. everyone was tired and both girls were blowing their noses into tissues. “mom! i can’t go to church! i have a cold!” said mazzy. i was crying from the first worship song on. “there’s no place i would rather be, then here in your love, then here in your
the cross is enough
there was demolition work at my kitchen table. i thought that it equaled the christian life. renovation; faith’s highest priority, it seemed to me. the work headed up by a foreman with hard hat on and drawn plans rolled up under his arm. and coffee. always coffee. his eyes had seen this job a million