And because it was so beautiful, it set me longing, always longing. Somewhere there must be more of it. C.S. Lewis, Til We Have Faces Before our son’s wedding in July, I had never been to the Pacific Northwest, never seen British Columbia, never been in Seattle. Well, okay, I had been in the Seattle airport. … More Such a Thing as Always
It has always been the field at the bottom of our neighborhood, the backyard of the community pool. Earliest memory finds us there with baby William at his first Easter, eight months old and unable to walk and sitting in the sand that is the volleyball court. We were late for the egg hunt, but … More Field Day
She has a full day of work ahead and a forty-five minute commute. Her three children will be at school all day, after which two will have music lessons and one hockey practice. Her husband is out of town on business all week. She posts a picture of her alarm clock: 5:45 AM, and the … More Perspective
The text had two questions, the first from the daughter, who is ten: “Are you related to Robert Louis Stevenson?” And the second from the mother, who is old enough to be a mother: “(The Daughter) is reciting her most favorite tomorrow… ‘The Swing.’ I’ve been coaching her to try to recite it without the … More Two Questions
“I only have six more months to be a kid,” he said. Out of the blue, just standing there in the living room. What was I doing? Passing through, I suppose, on my way to the next busy-ness, the way it usually goes with me. But I was arrested by the question, and then made a … More You Coming?
The plush frog was a gift sometime during the first year. With a music box embedded in its belly, a fabric-covered pull-string attached to its back, and a loop tied at the top of its head, the frog was the perfect toy to hang in the corner of the crib. I don’t remember how old … More How It Works, Part II
“How is your book doing?” she asked me, and I loved the question for the way she worded it: As if the book itself was doing, as if it had agency, a life of its own. As if, left to its own devices in my desk drawer, in my laptop files, it might nonetheless continue … More At Our House
It was an indifferent Wednesday. A day of continued recovery (we had come home in the wee hours only the day before; my suitcase was still unpacked), a hot day, summer. A day of things for the kids to do elsewhere so that I could do the housework that awaited me, or maybe do some … More It’s Long Because I’m Processing, Which is What Mothers Sometimes Do
I attended our church’s women’s retreat this weekend. It was a beautiful time: so many women I know– and many others I don’t– gathered to enjoy one another, to learn more about our God, to rest from the pull of our daily lives. I remember going on youth group retreats when I was a teenager. … More Difficult Balance
The pile appeared on Monday on his bedroom floor, just beside his dresser. Normally, such a sight would make me crazy: how many times must I say it? “Put your clean clothes away; put the dirty ones in the laundry.” What means this pile of clothing, languishing here, purposeless? But I could see that something … More Going, Going….
