Ponderings from a Pierced Heart

We hold our babies, swaddle them, sing to them. We study their hands unwrapping their fingers grip on ours, wondering if they’ll be able to palm a basketball or reach an octave on the piano. We love to dream of their potential. We pray for them. But every mother knows we can verbalize only a... Continue Reading →

You Can’t Whip God

This past Saturday, my grandpa would’ve turned 81. He’s been gone for almost nine years now, but he still has a message that needs to be heard. Jerry Neuhart was born in 1937 to Hilda and Frank, in the beautiful rolling hills of Southeastern Ohio. He grew up in the small town of Senecaville and... Continue Reading →

Beginning, Again

It wasn’t our first drive to the hospital. We’d done it more than a few times to labor and deliver babies. But this time was different. The one thing that always seems to stay the same is that things never go like we think they will. And we can cynically give up our expectations or... Continue Reading →

Pedal to the Metal

Her mom’s black patent leather shoes clicked over and over on the tile as she tip-toed around the kitchen. The quieter she tried to be, the more magnified the clicking was, reverberating through the house like a clanging cymbal.    My mom, a teenager about to become a parent, sat in the living room clenching... Continue Reading →

When You’re Not OK

We moved around my first 8 years. Making ends meet, keeping cars pieced together, and finding places we’d be welcome. An apartment for a bit, with Grandma and Grandpa for awhile, with one of your friends during my Kindergarten year, then into a nicer public housing complex. Cashiering wasn’t your passion and neither was putting... Continue Reading →

We Don’t Get To Decide

The situation takes me back 9 years ago. I'm standing at the counter mopping up crumbs while I mop up tears too. Wiping up a kitchen mess while I wipe my red, swollen eyes at the same time. The familiar lessons of sovereign bullets and choosing to give thanks in the taking, quickly come to... Continue Reading →

Grace For Every Hurdle

It's been a few weeks since your ninth birthday. Did I really think if I didn't write my annual post to you I could bypass the reality that we most likely only have nine more years together? And I feel like your dad and I are still hunched over you in the back seat, trying... Continue Reading →

The Day After

So what happens the day after Mother's Day when another hurdle has been jumped but your brave heart has melted and the hurt is still there and your arms are still empty? And not only are your arms empty but maybe that finger on your left hand is too. And it has been for too... Continue Reading →

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