codependent as the day is long

i have a real problem. i’m nearly addicted to the approval of people. it’s strange.  and it strangles.  it has made me do things that i’m not proud of. i’ll be the fool. i’ll be the fool for you. for me, there is a thin line between love and utter codependence. and it’s funny.  it

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santa is over for now

the holidays. sigh. the holidays found me bumming a cigarette off strangers and wandering through the woods with bright sunlight blinding my eyes. there was so much to do.  so much to get done. i felt the absence of youth this time around. when i was a little girl we would put our christmas tree

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all to reveal a secret we can’t hide

  during communal prayer at church, anyone can say anything.  i’ve heard mothers weep for children and homeless men go off on political rants. last sunday i had a prayer in my throat. but i think and rethink.  i wonder how i’ll say it.  i’m always writing my words. finally i pray. and as soon,

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the friends you want to avoid

the problem with surrounding yourself with truth tellers is they tell you the truth. i’ve been giving paper a sideways glance and walking into the kitchen to do the dishes. i would start to type a blog post and then delete the words not liking the tone, my tone, any voice that comes from my

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all that i own does not compare

i forget that the most compelling thing about me is jesus. i forget. in the forgetting i lose myself and become ungrateful, confused. am i a good mother? it is because jesus has wrought my iron will in his gentle hands. is my marriage remarkable? it is because he has been remarkably generous to two

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through the airwaves

the countdown to summer has begun. somehow. i’m confused how we go from buried, too cold to step outside, to easter morning on the beach, toes in sand. but alas, it is so. and i for one will hold my spinning head and say thank you for the spinning globe. bare branches have performed their

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a word is worth a thousand pictures

i heard good things today. richard foster praised silence for writers.  bret lott shared that we will never master writing because it is filled with self-doubt and loneliness.  anne lamott said that writing takes much longer than you think it will and remains a struggle always. this is good news. i was told to keep

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dear vanessa

the difficult parts of life don’t come with instruction booklets.  it’s just us, hammering out the days we’re given with flesh and blood. it can be a messy business. add to the mix the odd desire to share that process with people on the internet through a blog and it can get messier. or better.

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