“This is what resurrection looks like,” the priest said, by candlelight, at the Easter Vigil service. She described feeling like the “dry bones” we’d heard about in the passage from Ezekiel after her husband, mother, and father died all in the space of a couple of months.
I’ve been drawing a lot recently. Drawing, not writing. And it freaks me out.
My son was diagnosed at his special optometrist appointment yesterday with convergence insufficiency. His eyes don’t work together well.
I love sugar, and I need to give it up. Doesn’t everyone say that?
When I stopped posting on Facebook, the first thing I missed was writing little clever posts about the world around me. I realized I had been devoting a significant chunk of my brain and my attention to noticing things and then composing a status that summarized them in a concise, clever way.
I am considering doing a scary thing. After a year and a half of saying out loud that I was letting the first draft of my book sit, but secretly poking it in my mind over and over, I am now realizing I need to let it go completely.
This week I’ve found myself tongue-tied again—not that I can’t talk out loud, but that there is a sort of silence inside myself, a part that feels incoherent and stuck and unable to express itself.
Today the PTA for my son’s elementary school sent out a well handled email about the two upcoming days that people nationwide are planning to walk out of school to protest the school shooting in Parkland, Florida. After I read the email, I found myself mindlessly playing Plants Vs. Zombies.
Thus says the Lord: Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength, whose hearts turn away from the Lord. They shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when relief comes. They shall live in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt […]
In the early days of Lent, I found myself needing to take a break from Facebook for “a few days,” I said. Then, somehow, I concluded my break needed to last for all of Lent. Here are some reasons why.
Sometimes my son has a tricky relationship with the truth.
I am stuck. I don’t quite know why. I get overwhelmed easily. My best friend says it’s a trauma thing. I’d like to know more about that.