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Remembering Eugene Peterson
Eugene Peterson was, for me, a deeply rooted fruit tree against whom you could rest for shade, for support, for sustenance.
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All Shall Be Well
I said I needed a quick restroom break. It felt easier than explaining to my friend that I needed to go sit alone—away from him, away from everyone—in my car for a couple hours. At the time, I was being ushered to the opening dinner alongside hundreds of others. Standing…
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Dads and Donuts
He looked at my drawing and laughed. I’d given him a headband. “What is that? That doesn’t look like me.” It doesn’t. My son doesn’t even know what a headband is, so I’m sure he’s never sported one. I’d made a stray mark with my colored pencil and decided to…
Continue ReadingSuicide hotlines and what I really needed in the moment
Connecting the dots is natural. Every time I see a photo of a newborn celebrating a family’s newest arrival, I can’t help but think of my own experiences waiting and wandering in the hospital anticipating the birth of our son. Every time I hear of someone’s broken relationship with a…
Continue ReadingI’m Sorry I Can’t Remember
I’m sorry I can’t remember. You’re still adjusting to your loss, stewing in your anger, sitting with your grief. How could you not? The staircase gallery now a memorial. Weeks ago, the photos formed the foundation of lives to be lived, clips for a future montage—the graduation open house, the…
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