Discovered
Standing on wobbly legs in that parking lot, I slowly scanned the horizon. Black sky had surrendered to navy before arriving at a muted light blue. I could only manage short, shallow breaths, for fear of blunting the ability to hear the snap of a twig. I sensed Alice’s arm next to mine as we faced the expansive field of mystery, though I was isolated in my own world. My thoughts raced as quickly as my heart, and yet I could not think. Cemented motionless in the moment, I
Unraveled
"Mrs. Wilkins, I'm sorry to tell you that your husband is deceased." Time froze that morning and I along with it. There is no string of words to assemble that can convey that instant when life forever changed. My husband is dead? Aaron is dead? The man who daydreamed with me atop a Mexican pyramid about love and babies, the one who raised his arms in worship at church, the guy who selflessly served others. Gone. Just, gone. But we had just talked on the phone about school
Licking the Envelope of a Sympathy Card
This is part 2 (see “I Shaved My Legs”) Part of the guilt of grief is simply moving forward with life. The more forceful aspect involves the other gender. I had not looked twice at other men for twelve years out of respect for my husband. I didn’t want to. And yet here I was, with an inner battle brewing as I no longer carried the title of wife. I felt guilty for so quickly wondering how I would feel loved and important as life tumbled forward. Would I ever have sex agai
Jesus Plays Hide-and-Seek
This morning I woke up at dark-thirty and tiptoed to my kitchen. I filled my cup with beckoning java and stumbled my way back to our office. I love my office, my sanctuary. I have an oversized chair that I bought from a friend; it’s perfectly positioned next to a shelf so I can rest my coffee cup within arm’s reach. I climb in my spot almost every morning, usually wearing my repulsive bathrobe that I also adore. And I pray. I thank God for waking me with new mercies. I p
