There are stories we tell ourselves in order to make the moment better or at least OK. Whether based on fact or fiction, these explorations of life give our lives more…more time, more comfort, more hope, more clarity… We feel a reprieve.
Jesus has hair
I didn’t know Jesus needed his hair done, all three feet of him, medium brown skin. She was (and is) absolutely adorable. Middle Child Syndrome rings through her slender build. She’s use to being at fault. What are you going to do for the rest of the day? I’m going to behave. It’s more…
a strange friendship…
And even after discovering that I don’t know her that well, after all, I still believe I can trust her.
no dogs allowed
There’s always something…reminding me that I can’t always have the order I crave…
A mother’s dreams
It’s hardest when I’m the driver. I hear her desperate little voice ask, “Hand?” So I reach back, even though a shoulder/neck kink is sure to follow, and I hold her hand. I do it because her toddler heart and mind can’t push through whatever current frustration is making hand-holding essential. She shouldn’t have to…
over it.
It’s as if short snippets are all I’ve ever known. The daily “I should post that” thought is killing me–figuratively, of course. There was a time when long prose pieces were my thing. I didn’t just want to write; I wrote and I wrote a lot. I wrote poems. I wrote about my day. I wrote a…
Again…m#2
I showed up prepared to pray for others and ended up praying for myself, too. Even got to pray twice because the Rabbi wasn’t there. Not sure what happened to him but God used his absence to feed my soul, work away at my heart, remind me of His presence…that it is even with me. I…