• Life

    A Part and a Partner

    It wasn’t even half an acre of land, but it had our name to it and the acreage stretched when the shoreline waned because somebody decided to drain the lake or we didn’t get enough rain that year. It was my favorite patch of dirt and rocks and grass on the planet. I knew it like a friend; preferred sore feet from jagged rocks and brittle shelled oak leaves to wearing shoes because you don’t wear shoes where God meets earth. But I wasn’t a terrified Moses. I was Jesus in the temple. I knew where I belonged. Here was the tall grass we stamped down to make houses and…

  • 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…

  • mother holding her baby
    Love,  Motherhood,  Poems,  Poetry


    Once I was a cave for you Strong walls and a deep hearth Warm and safe and home My skinny arms sheltered – Not too thin for you, Tiny little thing, sprawled or curled I was a whole landscape You grew as you do when you Have a home to grow out of It is good and right and true But I feel I am small again Too small for you To be enveloped like you ought to be When the world is too un-cavey I wonder if it is enough That once I was a shelter – It seems to be when you cling And I can’t surround you…