“So, do you have any siblings?”
A innocent question
Which cuts like a knife.
I panic.
“No.”
“Oh, so you’re an only child?
How was that?”
My heart races.
I make up something
And quickly change the subject.
The guilt of this interaction
Weighs on me for weeks.
Why was I not brave enough?
To claim him, share his story?
After all the people I’ve met
Since he left seven years ago-
Somehow this question
Still does that to me.
Grief is a changeling .
A teacher, a wrecking ball, a friend.
There will always be moments
That shake me to my core.
My prayer is they will guide me
Towards a deeper love.
Category: Uncategorized
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The weather really reflects the state of the world right now. It is so cold in Minnesota that my eyes burn and snot freezes instantly upon exiting the house. Every year like clockwork I start scheming how we might move away from this godforsaken tundra. But then, every year, spring arrives (slowly) and I remember why we live here. Right now I can’t even tell you why; the memories are frozen along with the rest of me.
In other news, I have some words for all of my extroverts out there. Where ya’ll at? Can I get a little shout out in the comments? Can we commiserate for a second? Of course, the pandemic has been a shit storm for the entire world. Yet I think there is a specific type of grief for those of us who get energy from being around people. Did ya’ll see the memes and videos about how introverts were actually excited to be forced to stay home and not see people? That was months ago, but those never resonated with me.
I’m sure most of you have seen this video circulating on the internet. It could not more perfectly capture how navigating my social life has been during the pandemic. My natural bent is to be with people; this is me at my very core. It’s not always the most beneficial for me because I do need alone time. It’s just not my first inclination. For instance, on a Friday night – it doesn’t matter how exhausted I am – one of my first thoughts is to see who we can have over for dinner, who we can play a game with after the kids go to bed, who we can meet up with at park. None of this has been possible for almost a year now with the exception of a few summer months where a family or two could gather in our back yard. Oh how I relish the memory of those short weeks. On a weekly basis, I remember my deep desire to host people in our home and the wound is ripped open again. I have to re-learn repeatedly why this isn’t possible right now. I question it, I talk (or rant) about it, I realize all the hurdles it takes to do it, then realize it won’t happen, and repeat.
In the video, this poor lady is just trying to WALK down a sidewalk, a totally necessary and normal thing to do as a human, constantly slipping over and over. No one can really help her because they’re all slipping, too. Though the video is humorous, I felt seen for the first time in a while realizing how similar this was to my current situation. I have been slipping and hitting my behind for a long time now, friends. Almost a year. Lord, have mercy. I shudder to imagine the receipts on relationships and human connection due to this pandemic. Speaking of which, here is a very troubling report by the NYT regarding how moms specifically have been impacted.
In the last week, a special person passed and I wasn’t able to be with a dear friend to help bear that loss. I was not able to hold her hand, hug her neck, sit with her on the couch with a glass of wine, play with her little girl so she could have a much needed break to just lie in bed and cry. The pandemic has stolen so much.
As I was writing this post, this song came on and a specific line really hit me: “Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now. History is happening…” Obviously this song is about the American Revolution – but it landed heavily on me. In addition to my extroverted tendencies, I also sway towards negativity in my thought process. I am trying to stretch myself right now – to learn how this awful historical event of a global pandemic might draw me closer to God, to my family, to the broken hearted, even to my friends who I no longer see on any regular basis or at all.
I hope you are all okay today, friends. A question I’m thinking about is this: “how do we keep our hearts soft when the world is so hard?” Leave a comment with any feedback. Much love to you all.
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I saw a picture of me
From 7 years ago
A tiny wisp of a thing
Like a strong wind might
Knock me right over.
I took a lot of stock
In that type of thing
Back then.
The less space I took up,
The better.
Now I’ve got pounds
From each of my babies
Clinging to my bones.
My hips, breasts, skin stretched
To accommodate them.
There are days
I relish past memories.
That look, energy, freedom.
Then I remember the miracle
God did with my body
To create this family.
Whatever I thought
Back then
Is but a whisper
Compared to what is now. -
A reflection for January.
December is the fun sibling with its parties, flash, holidays, and treats. January is the middle child, unsure of herself and typically forgotten. January means Christmas let-down, unfitting clothes, and very little daylight. It’s the month I typically try to close my eyes and get through as quickly as possible. February is right around the corner after all, with it’s unpredictable weather, Valentine’s day, and bizarrely short number of days. Then comes March – which can be rainy and dreary but also sprinkles some warm days in there to perk the spirits. Poor, old January. The month when, every year, I tell myself I have to order a lamp that emulates sunlight or I will become permanently depressed.
But this month. It has a been a gift to me. For the first time in my life since becoming a mother, I had multiple weeks where I had fairly consistent childcare & was not employed (by choice). This meant I had time to write. Thank you, January, for this sweet treasure. I won’t forget next year when you berate me with your sub zero temperatures and dry skin. Or I’ll try not to forget.
Here are my daily best recommendations for this month!
Listen: Evermore by Taylor Swift & The Next Right Thing podcast by Emily P Freeman
Eat: These chocolate chip cookies. They are the best. It’s not a question, it’s a fact. And these brownies from scratch. Just trust me.
Buy: Hair scrunchies with a bow. Been a nice little change to my daily pony tail. Perfect for people who are bad at doing hair (me).
Read: Nonfiction: Will the Circle Be Unbroken by Sean Dietrich; Fiction: Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by VE Schwab, The Midnight Library by Matt Haig






