ESSAYS
Reaching Through Time and Space: Generational Healing as a Mixed Native Mother
“If you’re really Native, how do you plug in your computer?”It was a question I was asked at the age of eight by another kid at summer camp. She meant it sincerely. She was struggling to reconcile her concept of Native people as teepee-dwelling museum pieces with the light-skinned kid in front of her. I…
READ MORECarrying Our Homes
She bounds down the concrete steps in her almost-two-year-old glory: wearing a backward t-shirt with the tag jutting out below her chin and a bright pink tutu over her pants. Her ponytail has migrated to the side of her head, sprouting like a horizontal palm tree. Thanks to the unsolicited comment from a neighbor tinkering…
READ MOREAs A Mother Comforts Her Child
I was not excited when I found out I was pregnant. In fact, I remember staring at the five pregnancy tests in our tiny apartment in Texas trying very unsuccessfully to not fall in a panic attack. All I could think as I saw that plus sign in front of me was, “I can’t do…
READ MOREThis Is Why We Give Thanks
“One act of thanksgiving made when things go wrong is worth a thousand when things go well.” (St. John of Avila) My children’s favorite grace before meals is—(ducks and blushes from theological embarrassment)—the Johnny Appleseed song. Oh, the Lord’s been good to me / And so I thank the Lord For giving me / The things…
READ MOREcan these bones live?
He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” (Ezekiel 37:3) I miss your writing, she texts me. So I went back and read a bunch of the old stuff. I miss it, too, I write back. The next day another friend listens. (My latest litany of lament.) “So…
READ MORESeven Metaphors For Grief
1. The pale pink tulips are drooping, stems withered beyond saving. I carry their vase over to the sink, dump out the water, crush the stems into the compost bin. Absentmindedly I wonder aloud. “I really thought we were going to get more time with these.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, we are…
READ MOREWhen You Do Not Want To Give Thanks
It’s been a hard month, hasn’t it? In our small corner, it was the shock of twins. The exhaustion of early pregnancy. The darkness of morning sickness. And the upheaving of expectations. But in the wider world, it was Paris and Beirut and Syria and so many million more places where the earth is broken and…
READ MOREI have a first-grader
Every morning my son goes off to school. He slings a giant shark backpack over his tiny shoulder, and he waves to me as I drive away from the carpool lane. And every morning as he turns into the school’s open door, the same fear catches my heart. What if that is the last time…
READ MORESee What You Have Done. Know That It Is Good.
He goes in to look at them. Every night before we shut the door to our bedroom and declare the day done, he goes to see the sleeping boys. Too often I play the part of the tired mother. I have been with them all day. I do not feel the need to watch again, especially now that…
READ MOREJoy, Meet Relief
Can you hear it in their voices? Once you cut through the baffled wonder and divide the nagging disbelief and set aside the stuttering astonishment, there it is: relief. He is risen. He is risen? He is risen! It’s not a matter of simple punctuation. There are a thousand reactions to surprising news, and the Gospels cover nearly every one. Mary…
READ MOREBaby’s First Holy Week
Sweet boy, here we are. In the holiest of weeks. It all started on Palm Sunday. You solemnly gumming the long green palm in your father’s hands. Your brothers waving their palms wildly around the air (bonus points for whacking a sibling in the eye). Me watching all of you, half wondering why we bother to bring…
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