Faith

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My Thanksgiving Hallelujah

We’d been married 205 days when my body failed my first (un)born. We’d been apart for 148 of those days. My soldier left in the fall, in the brilliance of the dying leaves. He left, and I was pregnant and blissfully naive in the way you can only be when you have yet to suffer real loss. I said goodbye to my husband at midnight in a nondescript gravel lot, with my head tucked up under his chin, breathing in...

On Bouldering and Being Brave

We went bouldering on Friday. Accidentally, because that’s how I fall headlong through our life these wild and wooly days. Second son shouted from the top of every rock, “It’s so beautiful up here!” And insisted on winking at me in almost every photo.Darling Girl insisted on jumping off or over every obstacle in her path, adamant that I not steady her. Wee Man took a running start over the edge of a boulder, only to break his fall with his sister’s kneecaps....

On Perspective, and Resurrection

(Easter is mostly over, and my newsfeed is awash in scrubbed faces, pouffy dresses, and coordinating outfits-of which I am a willing participant, don’t get me wrong. But there is still time for a meditation on Resurrection Sunday, because truthfully we celebrate year round. Written last Sunday, technically). I’m tucked in the corner of a wooden pew in a small, brick-clad Anglican church in Knoxville, TN. My children, my wild ones, make quiet reflection an elusive, tantalizing goal on Sunday mornings....

Love Baghdad. Love Anyway.

(Every time I went to write this, fresh tragedy was overtaking my social media streams. And so this may be old news in this heartbreaking season, but it still matters.) It feels like the world is on fire – and in the dog days of this summer, I am burning from the inside out. It’s an odd thing to be standing in my white skin and the capital of the United States of America and feel like the other. Some days...

The Month of the Military Child

April is the month of the military child. I have four wild souls populating this space, but my girl, my oldest, she has born the brunt of the choices we make in a way that is both beautiful and heartrending all at once. My husband’s last deployment was two years ago. This one, this one I didn’t think he would survive. (Spoiler, he did.) I hate watching him pack his bags. I hate saying goodbye. I hate watching the children say goodbye....