My Mother's Day card came early
My Mother’s Day card came a few weeks ago. While I bounded from task to task, Hen sat quietly on the living room floor methodically taking photos from her first year album…
Read MoreSo help me God
I will always love her more than what anyone thinks of me.
Read MoreWhat shows up too
Hen took this while we were making popcorn the other day. It was rainy, we were cooped up, and I was kinda grumpy about it. But she saw this.
Read MoreA matter of minutes
Homemade play dough in a matter of minutes. An hour standing in the kitchen playing together. One funny little man and a funnier little girl reaching out to hold his hand. That giggle, my word. More than I can fathom…
Read MoreMama meet play
Today I tried reading to myself while Henlee played. It was fine, but time seemed to tick rather than swim. So we shifted and visited “our maple tree.” I dove in.
Read MoreWhat ministry looks like right now
This is what a lot of my ministry looks like right now.
For better and for worse, we are all in this together, all of the time.
Read MoreMotherhood is an aching vulnerability
Have you ever? In your wildest? Ever imagined? Such a wonder.
Motherhood is an aching vulnerability, all of life daring me daily to be here. See. Feel. Know this fleeting goodness.
Read MoreLooking in
Getting to a point where I feel this is my perspective most of the time. Peeking in, watching for where she’ll go next, what she’ll dream or try.
Read MoreSmooshed in the middle of Love
I hope you feel smooshed in the middle of Love today. That the sounds of our heartbeats mean courage to your whole being.
I hope you feel mischievous and emboldened because we believe in you…
Read MorePregnancy and the Liberation Front
It keeps ringing in my mind, the question—will this satisfy? Does this satisfy my bearing body, mind, and soul?
A while back, just after some new friends asked us to bring poems to their party, Berry’s “Manifesto” entered my ears. Thank God, too, for I felt I had lost my mooring; I did not find my bare and pregnant footing secure on the Liberation Front, but felt instead tucked away somewhere in the back behind selfish sentimentality and careless caution, shut in the “mothers’ room,” it seemed, away from the unction and the action.
And then I remembered those words, words that had once called a congregation to worship through me, through my all-woman, dress-clad, wild-haired body. I remembered those words, that question—“will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child?”
Read More