writing when inspired about the often overlooked
My phone rang late one evening. Seeing it was my young friend, I answered with a smile in my voice “Good evening, Bridgett.” (not her real name.) A small voice, said “Do you have time to talk?” Hearing “Of course,” the small voice became even smaller as the “little girl” inside my very grown up…
With signs promising an ocean view, we walked through the pedestrian walkway under US 1 along the coast of California, just south of Big Sur. We weren’t disappointed. A short walk further, then this . . . the breath-taking, make-you-want-to-cry beauty of McWay Falls inaccessible except by kayak. Even now, 12 years later I remember…
Dear Little Sister Brenda, Today, August 28, you would be 59 years old. Since you came and went so fast, all in the same day, I know nothing about you. All I can do is try and imagine. Daddy was the only one who saw you. He said you were “perfectly formed.” Often I have…
Help calm my heart, Jesus. Dad died four years ago today. I reckon the uptightness I feel about all the things I want to get done this week, wondering if I have enough time left (to live) and fretting that I am indeed running out of time, keep me distant from the fact it is…
Happy birthday to Brenda Jane. August 28, 1959 – August 28, 1959 ********** August 28th, fifty-seven years ago: I am 11 years old. A baby is coming, but the Doctor has been saying there is probably something wrong with the baby and if Mother “miscarries” it will be “God’s way of taking care of it.”…
My husband and I were alone on Thanksgiving. “It’s all good,” I told someone yesterday. “Our children and 10 grandchildren are with their other families. Well, one is still in Ethiopia. We expect to have her here with us soon.” And I missed my mom and my dad. They are gone now, as are my…
(Carol and Gordon, April 5, 2005) On this, the 10th anniversary of her husband’s death, my sister-in-law, Carol, has agreed to share an excerpt here from her recently written series of reflections on the first year of being a widow. Yeah, it gets confusing, both of us being Carol and all. (Gordon died of hypothermia…
Remembering my brother, Gordon Eugene Longenecker, on the 9th anniversary of his death at age 49. Nov. 6th I wrote about The Gift of Fall in a Season of Grief. Today I continue the remembering with smiles. It’s been nine years since losing him and it seems like a good time to remember the Gordon we all…
“First you pursue us with blood maples and tease with your decadent, hazy light. Then you weave through the woods like the scent of decay that surrounds us with every step. Light bathes from above, so plentiful that not even the blood maples or the honey oaks can soak it all up before it overflows…
There is something profound about being the only one left in one’s biological family of origin. Some years I think about it more than others, but this past week I have very aware that nine years ago my brother and I spent our last day together. It was August 5,2005 – two months and 27…