writing when inspired about the often overlooked
I dabbled at writing a diary in high school, but that diary disappeared along with the one I started my first year in college – the one where I carefully noted every interaction with any boy down to the detail of what was said and done so that someday I could return to said…
Oh, Hello Grief. Here you are a little early. Tomorrow would have been my brother’s 56th birthday – another bittersweet day to celebrate without him. This will be the seventh time since he lost his way in his beloved Montana Mountains and died of hypothermia. I was hoping you wouldn’t show up this year. That’s the…
Early October, 2005, we drive down US1 with dear friends, stopping along the way as we observe the stunning beauty of the northern California coast. This trip provides me with a gift I would need soon. With signs promising an ocean view, we walk through the pedestrian walkway under US 1 along the coast, just…
It is sunset here at the Lake. Your Creation, Lord, does its work. as the chatter in my head fades away. And in the silence, my friend, Sadness, cautiously peeks out behind the Weeping Willow Tree to see if it is safe. I have been ignoring her, much of today spent in what I now…
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. Her excellent booklet, “Checking…
“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…