jordan almonds and jesus christ

i’ve been thinking about jordan almonds lately. and how the weakest among us take the brunt of our anger. and how jesus is both. he’s the jordan almonds and the weakest among us. it was my dad’s cousin’s wedding where i first tasted jordan almonds. or maybe it was before that.  maybe it was my

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the ghosts of october

we drive from orchard to orchard, yellow leaves falling and we end up in a nursing home, cider and donuts in hand. my grandfather was born in october and this year he turned ninety. his wife died twenty nine years ago in another october, three days after his birthday. he’s outlived nora for almost thirty years

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grandfathers and writing conferences

i left town last week.  i’m leaving again on thursday. i couldn’t leave soon enough when my children were small.  little hands hooked around my neck and breathing so close, too close.  no quiet.  always taking care. it’s not like that now. now it seems like time sneaks up on me and my ride is

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vulnerability and the grocery store

if there is any person out there expecting a child with a disability, i have this little piece of advice for you.  get ready for what i like to call ‘the grocery store brigade.’ i can’t count the number of times i’ve been shopping, deciding between cheddar or muenster cheese and slowly felt the proximity

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milkweed thanksgiving

it’s late. we’re under blankets in our cold bedroom.  joshua’s reading and i’m remembering the milkweed plant i saw in a garden at mazzy’s school. we don’t know it but clouds are gathering right over our heads.  we don’t know that we’ll wake up to snow and that right now a grey sky is being

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great lakes of time

she’s arranging each tiny fish and making up a story.  she whispers it quiet.  these past weeks she’s crossing a line.  it’s happening right now.  it’s flowing downstream. time keeps its pace. i haven’t handled summer that well. i’ve let time slip without intention.  kids scramble and argue.  i run to catch up instead of

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a trip to the store

where is a parent to take the daily frustrations of raising dependent, imperfect children? – the bar? – the confessional? – prayer circle? – blank page? – closest confidant? well this particular day, when the air was cold and the sky was clear, i decided to take my frustrations right back to their source. to

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o lord, make haste to help me

our help is in the name of the lord. our life, like a bird, has escaped from the snare of the fowler.  indeed the snare has been broken and we have escaped. they say that when times are good that it’s easy to forget the lord.  then when times are hard, we call out to

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