I have been a single parent for two years. Before that, I thought I knew a bit about single parenting because I often felt like one. Now I know what I didn’t know.

In those years before my husband and I separated and divorced, he left more and more of the parenting responsibilities to me. He gave up on most of the kids’ activities, and I did all of the driving and attending. Of course, I wanted to be there, but the point is that he didn’t and usually wasn’t. I felt alone. I was alone. And every aspect of caring for the children was mine. Continue reading “Single Parent” →

A few years ago I had a dream that I have not been able to forget. I found a baby in a stroller, abandoned on the side of the road. I took the baby home to keep her safe and figure out how to find her parents. More than a day passed before I went to the police to report that I had found a baby. In that time, I never once picked the baby up, changed her diaper, or fed her. She just sat quietly in the stroller in my house. When I woke up, I remembered the dream and felt disturbed. How had I left that baby all alone and not cared for her?

And then I got it. That baby. She was a representation of a gift I have — a talent that I was investing almost nothing in. Like that baby, I did not take care of her or nurture her. She just sat there, and I ignored her. She had stopped making noise, if she’d ever made any.

We like to think our talents are outright gifts. A blessing, not a burden. I think that’s where we go wrong. I have four children, and they are wonderful blessings to be sure, but kids are a whole lot of work.  Continue reading “The Baby on the Side of the Road” →

For some of us, hope is an easy enough thing to lose. Emily Dickinson says that “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul,” but her famous poem goes on to say that it would take quite a storm to stop the bird from singing its endless song. I don’t see it that way.

Birds are skittish creatures. I feel like her first phrase gets it right: Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul. But I think the rest of the poem may get it wrong. Hope is easily scared away, as any bird is.
Continue reading “That Thing with Feathers” →

Two years ago in early January I heard God tell me to stop counting my resources. I sensed an invitation to some kind of shift, but I didn’t know what to make of it. My (then) husband and I were in debt and I was enslaved to counting the dollars and “figuring things out,” but it was exhausting, and I was past the end of my rope. Here’s a bit of what I wrote about this at the time: Continue reading “I can’t” →

When I was in fourth grade, my college-aged brother took me aside and said, “When you get to college, you are going to have to read a lot. The kids who know how to read fast do well. You better start now.” Then he handed me a copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

It was like he struck a match and set me on fire. From that point on, reading, which I’d always enjoyed, became my mission, and the library became my favorite place. Nothing felt more hopeful to me than that short ride in my mom’s car to get more books. The library itself was a sanctuary. The tight rows of shelved books. The order. The quiet. The possibilities. Continue reading “Words” →