the great intelligence of kindness

mazzy has been busy with her high school musical. she’s been spending nights at rehearsal, putting together costume ideas and driving to the performing center right from school with friends who have cars. driving in a friend’s car.  walking together out of the school to the parking lot and dropping her purple backpack onto the

april showers

there’s this part in the bible.  i think it’s in the old testament somewhere.  it’s god talking to his people.  he says that when they get to the promise land, when they get everything they want – even more than they ever knew they’d possess, that they shouldn’t forget about god or he’d take it

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what myra said

when i met myra i was in full-on church recruiting mode. she was a neighbor. perfect. i got along really well with her. perfect. her live in boyfriend was an asshole and we could hear him yell at her before he slammed out of the screen door and drove off. just perfect. i told her

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when you’re privileged

  i am just another white woman walking in his shop. just another tourist on vacation with my blonde hair and my cute as a button daughter. i’m picking up sandals and trying to decide if i want to spend too much money on shoes. “quaint.” earlier i’d heard a man say it behind me

living backwards

my own story is a redemption tale. a little girl made almost nothing by the strong arms of the past.  you can’t underestimate what’s gone on before you and handed down.  the momentum of years taking dead aim to crash into your life is the most powerful force on earth, i’d say. there’s an elementary

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prayer request

i get prayer. it’s not a holy moment for healing and restoration. it isn’t a ritual. pray with me, jesus asked the disciples and they tried.  they really did.  but they fell asleep. i pray because i can’t do this. the world around me.  the things i know. i pray because, really, what else is

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auditioning for the role of pastor

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

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box mix

so many days went into them.  they were piggy banks into which i put my coin. they taught me to slow down.  to bake a gingerbread house myself.  i didn’t know that i could. there are those kits that line the shelves.  the ones that have the walls and the roof already made for you.

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