When I get nervous in life or death situations, I start babbling to the people around me. Or I throw up. I do best when strangers surround me for these reasons. Kind nurses with cool hands offering
By Kendra Roehl “Mommy is this right?” My daughter shows me the note she’s writing. There are pictures of herself and her siblings taped haphazardly alongside her printed words. “It’s close!” I reply. “Well, what
I started dreaming about a little business while Florence was still alive. When Teddy would nap frequently throughout the day, I would sit with Florence and string and restring necklaces. I can barely remember what
I have had a major case of writer’s block over the last few months. Writing can take a lot of effort. Sometimes there’s stage fright involved. Sometimes I’m driven to write for someone else. But really,
I have found myself bowing out of the fight these days. Brokenness no longer looks beautiful. The dust seems incapable of creating a shiny earthen vessel. I’m tired, weak, distracted and downright afraid of danger.
I like to think I’m a strong woman. I like feeling in control and in charge of the situation. I like to have tools and to-do lists and everything in its place. This false sense
Community is birthed out of chaos. I know this well. My community came around when life dumped some haphazard days and months and years at my feet. In my breaking and sharing and even in my silence, armies of
As I sit here with my piping hot tea, reheated numerous times before I could take the first sip, I think about my word for this year. We are in a new home. The last
It comes around every holiday or big event. The dread. The crackle of electricity in the air. The cough mask wearing and obsessive hand washing. The bulging eyes as someone coughs all over the apples at
We went to our neuromuscular clinic appointment today. We were expecting results. And still, they had not come in. I was trembling and feeling ill. Anticipation has a way of twisting knots into your stomach.
It’s been over 10 weeks since Theodore came into this world. Ten crazy, lovely and hard weeks. At eight weeks, I wrote this: In the days following his birth I was an emotional wreck, like most mothers.
