Eight Ways to Love Your Sister
The dim lighting of past years had shielded me from the truth, but there it was in blue and purple: the mark of womanhood. Spider veins. I completed the natural first step:Â I screamed. Then the natural second step: I texted my sister: “OMW I HAVE SPIDER VEINS...
We Laughed: How a Spirit of Joy Transforms a Home
She might not remember it, but a lot of times she laughed when she replied ‘yes, they’re all mine’ (though she probably wished she could send a few of us back). She didn’t say it was easy and she didn’t say it was hard; she didn’t condemn their one-childness and she didn’t complain about us. She laughed.
I Bow My Work
Laborare est orare; orare est laborare. My Latin days come flooding into my memory: three years of verb tenses and vocabulary. Latin has a way of describing thoughts that make them instantly more profound. But in those years of high school translation, I never came...
I Bow My Waiting
There are so many seasons of waiting. When I was single, much of the waiting conversation revolved around finding a spouse. But after being married for six years, I’ve seen clearly that waiting is required of us in every single stage of life. Waiting is difficult because it requires trust. We can’t see the end game; we don’t know the outcome. We’re standing still (or so it feels like) until the next step if revealed to us.