I don’t hate people. Really. There are exceptions, of course: child molesters, the kid at school who called my daughter a “faggot,” Hitler. But I don’t feel hatred…
“Rupture and repair.” Bloody, messy, takes-you-by-surprise trauma. A burst blood vessel, a tire blowout on a super highway or a fractured relationship – they all need to be…
It’s around 2 o’clock on a Sunday afternoon and I’m standing in the kitchen trying to decide if I want a PopTart. Actually, I’m not trying to decide.…
“I don’t think I’m cut out for the bomb squad.” This is what I told my husband the other day in the car, as we were ferrying our…
I admit it. Sometimes I’m a creep. Not on purpose or anything. But sometimes I find myself in these situations where I’m uber-creepy. And pointing it out or…
I opened my email the other morning and saw the annual welcome letter from the elementary school principal. It included all the traditional notes about being excited to…
Summer has left me with more than just a sunburn. The bi-annual family beach reunion was a bust this year, although not because of family, because of Jesus.…
When I was twelve, my middle school girlfriends and I called boys on the phone, hovered by the fence at Pop Warner football practice, and sat around at…
Lately, I have been inundated with invitations for “leggings” parties both live and online. My 30 something friends just can’t get enough of these festive fashion-forward wardrobe staples.…
Many years ago, after first having a girl, I gave birth to a son. A more experienced mother with multiple boys came to visit. She peered down at…