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Thin Places

Mom stayed home with us until my youngest sister (I have three) was five. Even then, she went back to work part-time, as a pre-school teacher. She has been a grandmother in training for two decades. Every night, except Mondays when we had the special treat of McDonald’s, she cooked dinner–one for us, another for…

“An Open Letter to Anne Rice,” by Karen Spears Zacharias, should be of interest to anyone who has followed Anne Rice’s public declaration that she has left Christianity. I wrote a quick response earlier this week: “Can You Follow Christ Without Being a Christian.”    I’ve also been grateful for an interesting discussion in response…

Expecting Adam, by Martha Beck. Sure, Martha Beck is on the kooky end of the spirituality spectrum, but she’s a fantastic writer, and this memoir of her accidental pregnancy in which her baby was diagnosed in utero with Down syndrome, never fails to move me. It’s a story of letting go and receiving the gift…

I’m undecided on the question of gay marriage. In fact, there are aspects of the debate that are blurry enough in my mind and heart that I’m not even willing to try to articulate my point of view. But I try to keep educating myself on the issue–politically, legally, and theologically, and Andrew Sullivan’s blogpost:…

When I was a little girl, I picked up an assumption that once I reached a certain age–say thirty or so–I wouldn’t be able to change anymore. I guess my parents seemed like fixed entities, and I figured I would be too. Plus there was that saying I heard all the time, “You can’t teach…

“It doesn’t seem like you enjoy time with our children,” my husband said. Ouch. That’s an exact quote. And that alone would be bad enough, but layer on top of it my interpretation: “You are a bad mother. You don’t love our children.” It turned into a series of conversations. And in the end (many…

Back in 1964, I was born with a rare condition called Arthrogryposis Multiplex Congenita. The doctors predicted I’d never live, and if I did live, I’d never walk, and even if I did both those things, I’d certainly not have a normal brain (“mentally retarded” is the term they used). Wrong. Wrong. And wrong again.…

Many years ago, I spent my summer babysitting a three-year old and a seven-year old. And one day I took them to the pool. I don’t remember what happened to make the three-year old, a little girl with long curly blonde hair, erupt in tears. I just know that once she started wailing, I picked…

“Tell me a story ’bout William was born,” Penny said in the car this morning. “Well, two years ago, my belly was really really big.” “Baby in your belly?” William chimed in. “Yep, but that time the baby was you!” “Oh.” (He looks very serious whenever he says oh.) I went on: “My belly was…

William turned two on Saturday. He spent most of last week getting ready. “It’s William’s birt-day! Two years old! Presents and choc-o-late cake!” The day itself lived up to any and all expectations. It began with Penny and William “helping” me bake the cake.  And then, for the party itself, William’s uncle showed up on…
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