• God,  Life,  Love,  Theology

    Grabbing, Eating, Dying

    It would have been me anyway. If we made it this far in the garden, and no one had eaten the fruit. I’d be the one to walk up to that tree. Knowledge of Good and Evil would mean nothing, and I’d want to know why. I rose my hand to ask things I wasn’t supposed to ask from an early age, I might as well have grabbed some fruit while it was up there in the air. Because the snake asked what was there already… what did God say and what did it mean? And I wonder if Adam heard it, too. Maybe even first. But his fidelity to Order,…

  • Cancer,  death,  Faith,  Family,  God,  Grief,  Life

    Red Suitcase

    Five years ago I was living from a giant red suitcase, sleeping with my babies in the bedroom that shared a hall with her, only not anymore. Five years ago today she wasn’t there by hours and among other things, my attention was beginning to turn to packing up the suitcase to go home after the long and hellish trip to say goodbye to the home I always had in her. It was weird. Today I am piling clothes to fold and put into the big red suitcase for a trip to see the same people I was with five years ago, only now we’re gathering for the fun of…

  • Christian Teaching,  God,  Life,  Motherhood,  parenting,  Theology

    Parenting Through Deconstruction

    My children ask me things that I used to have answers to. “Where is [deceased person] now?” “Were Adam and Eve real?” “Why did Jesus ‘have’ to die?” “Who is God’s mom?” “Did God really kill all the firstborn sons in Egypt?” (thanks, Prince of Egypt, for that one… oops) But the questions didn’t come to me then, when I would have turned toward countless Christian-parent resources and colored pictures of Noah’s Ark and talked about how God is just and hates sin, but loves us. The questions come now when I have run almost entirely out of printable answers on which we can color inside bold black lines. I…

  • God,  Life,  Love,  Motherhood,  Poems,  Poetry

    Just to Touch the Ocean

    I sit with old mothers, watching the tide They curl fatherless children in their hips And watch the blurred horizon for ships Which left too long ago to remember Or for monsters or an angry wind They call their kids back from the dark I sit with my mother, all smile and tan At the beach where she felt most herself Where she played and collected her shells The crashing and churning don’t scare her Every bit of it named, can’t you tell? All known by a God who is light They run from the lines of white foam And they scream while they laugh Grab fistfuls of sand to…