Today marks seven years since my mother died. Seven. There was a time I thought it impossible to get to one. Seven years without her voice, without a cuddle on the couch, without arguing over politics, without hearing her exasperated scoff in my direction, without the smile that made my whole body feel warm and safe. The night she died I slipped away from anything like light. I have never perceived a darkness so all-consuming. Part of it was that I had some expectation of how her death was supposed to go. Soft and gentle. Peacefully embracing Jesus. I had heard enough stories about dying people suddenly opening their eyes…
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From the Bottom
I’m writing this from the middle of it—somewhere close to the bottom, I hope—but I won’t publish until I’m at least far enough through that I can look behind me. So if you’re reading this and it seems heavy and you feel like I need professional help or as though you must urgently tell me something to rescue me, know that I appreciate you and also that I’m okay. If I’m not okay then I won’t publish this. It will be published posthumously, by either Gabe or Beth, whichever one finds this funnier first. I’m having what I can only assume is some kind of long form anxiety attack. I…
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Love Notes
“Maybe Jesus knew you’d read the word ‘beagle’ today!” I say to her after sounding it out and our remembering that those two matching beagles just walked by the house this morning so she got to hear this strange word. “Or maybe the owner just wanted to walk his dogs…” she says, empirically, with all the rational exposition 300 years of Enlightenment Thinking can produce in its youngest prodigies. I laugh and nod, “Both things can be true, you know.” Because the question I am convinced is built into the factory settings, is Are you there and do you care? That is, is there a “you” to care at all…
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An Attempt
It will not stop a war now, but I’m gonna love my kid I’ll tell her every day that she’s got the things we need So she’ll believe the truest thing I know If I have any say (That power flexes big and tall, but hope and beauty strike it) It will not jam the guns up, but I’m gonna kiss my man Let our limbs wrap all around for to do what arms are made Worship the Imago Dei, not burst it into shrapnel If I have any sway We’ll hold each other when we’re scared and make ourselves more whole It will not soothe a leader’s greed, but…
