If You’re Tired of Labels

If You’re Tired of Labels

My husband was waiting for me to finish my nightly bedtime routine as I filled him in on all that had happened at a writing workshop I’d attended earlier that day. I leaned on the bathroom counter, my face lathered with soap, and said, “I just don’t...
How We Become Entangled (and Disentangled)

How We Become Entangled (and Disentangled)

A couple of months ago, while the world still slept in gray and brown here in Georgia, my husband carved an intricate network of biking trails through the woods behind our house. (I use them for walking, though, because the one time I ventured out on my bike I was...
When You Feel Too Small For This Great Big Life

When You Feel Too Small For This Great Big Life

I had a dream last week in which I was driving a huge truck. It wasn’t just any truck, either, but one of those massive ones they use in the rock quarry down the road from my house. One of those dump trucks on steroids, that dwarf school buses and make...
What Happened and What If

What Happened and What If

My daughter and I were in a minor accident this past Sunday on our way home from church. It happened at an intersection we drive through several times a week, and as we passed it last night I took a deep breath and told her, “All right! We did it!” She was...
The Haze Before The Hope

The Haze Before The Hope

Spring has come to Georgia, although we gave winter little more than a passing glance. Those of us who wait all year to snuggle up in hooded sweaters were sorely disappointed this year as we more often needed T-shirts and sandals. It has taken some work to come to...
Already and Not Yet: A Redemption Story

Already and Not Yet: A Redemption Story

These words have been simmering for almost three weeks now, and even as I sit ready to tell the story I’m not sure they’re ready. It’s a story that must be told, though, and because time has a way of smoothing out the edges of what cuts us deeply...
On Love Notes and Hearts

On Love Notes and Hearts

When I was a freshman in high school, I had an intense crush on an older boy. We’re talking intense, y’all. It was orderline obsessive, actually, and looking back, my behavior and feelings were completely unwarranted. I hardly knew him, save our...
Careful Hands and Clinched Fists

Careful Hands and Clinched Fists

She has always been a collector. (We try not to use the word “hoarder,” but yeah….let’s call a spade a spade.) Even now, as a more mature eight-year-old, she has boxes and baggies fully of miscellaneous treasures stowed away: leaves, tiny...

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