Today marks 4 years of time without my mother. Which seems absurd. Something about another revolution around the sun makes me a little sick, like on a carnival ride. We’re moving too fast. How the hell did we pass the Fun House again already? I was prompted this morning to consider that grief reveals the things that matter most to you. I get that. I miss being seen and known by her and loved fully; support and safety matter to me in relationships. I miss our shared history; the stories only she can tell and the way she saw me that only she could; my personal history and other peoples’…
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With Us
I wrote this on the darkest day of the year. Because if this season is “about” anything, it’s about that.
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Telling the Truth
Instagram wouldn’t let me say as much as I apparently needed to say about this book so here’s a post! A book review-ish.
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Blowing Out the Candle
So the lights go out. And whatever was said before it or during it, you can’t escape that the lights are off and the candles are warm. Every year we go to that Lutheran sanctuary – with the steps Mom was confirmed on, the cobbled aisle she walked down as a bride, the altar where they sprinkled water on my head in holy hope. We all pile into cars and minivans and occupy a pew or two to sing the hymns, speak the liturgies. We listen to the message about gifts or a virgin birth or good tidings and then we do the most honest, beautiful thing we could do: we…
