Two years ago, I had two hearts beating beneath my own. Twins. I was overwhelmed most of the pregnancy, to be honest. Worry multiplies with multiples. How would we care for two babies at once? What would life look like with five kids? Deeper, darker questions slid underneath, slimy and squirming. How could I love them all well? Would I lose myself? I worried about the wrong things. Most of us do, most of the time. Two weeks later, their tiny hearts were beating outside my body. Each fighting to keep pumping: one with too much blood, one with too little. Trapped inside giant isolettes, wrapped in plastic and tubes, poked and prodded, too much and too little. Neither heart strong enough to survive. A week later we held two tiny urns. Hearts to ashes. . . . Everyone we love will die. Of course you don't want to read that; I don't want to write it; no one wants to believe it. But it is truth. Can we hold it between steady hands? Look it straight in the face? Even … [Read more...] about when hearts become ashes
ash wednesday
lent: what we need is here
And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear. What we need is here. - from "The Wild Geese" by Wendell Berry Deep breath. Eyes closed. Flying leap. Each new Lent feels like this. Jumping into the unknown. Flinging ourselves into the arms of the divine. Wondering where on earth we will end up. We know it ends at the cross and the empty tomb. But the deeper journey into these 40 days? It can wind into unexpected places. Darkest corners and lightest hopes. If we take the journey, we will be led. This is always Lent's promise. What we need is here. Ash Wednesday starts out this season of surprises. Churches are packed even though there's no obligation. Long lines wind down the aisles. Strangers smudge dirt on each other's foreheads. We tell small children they are mortal dust. Each year I write about Ash Wednesday. A mother's prayer to mark the day. A reflection on motherhood and mortality. Thoughts on tragedies global and local that cross … [Read more...] about lent: what we need is here
morbid? motherhood & mortality
"Mommy, I don't want to die." His big blue eyes stare up at me, full of - what? Worry? Seriousness? Wonder? We've been revisiting this conversation for months, variations on a theme: Mommy, I don't want to go to be with God. Mommy, I want to live to be 100. Mommy, I don't want you to die. He hasn't yet brushed with death, not in the aching loss of one he loves. But he's a curious child, and his love of numbers and wonder about God swirl together to stir up questions of how old God is and how old people can be. All of which added up in his head to a budding realization of finitude in the face of the infinite. What do I say? Blunder through the typical lines about how I hope he'll have a long life, and then when his life is done, he'll get to go be with God in a new way, and God loves him even more than any person ever could, so wouldn't that be amazing? Except, of course, it's all strange and skeptical enough to make wise adults anxious. So why would any precocious preschooler … [Read more...] about morbid? motherhood & mortality
a mother’s prayer for ash wednesday
God of Ash Wednesday, whose hands first gathered dust to create us, whose Spirit breathed new life into brittle bones, whose fingers traced the sand to save a sinner, take the dirt of my life - the tempers lost, the doors slammed, the complaints muttered, the harsh words thrown, the dark doubts seethed - take all these flaws and failings and burn them blazing in the fire of forgiveness. Gather the dust that lingers, the ashes streaked across your healing hands, and trace the ancient cross once again across my forehead. Press its humbling love deep into my mind and heart, let it sink into my soul reminding me that life is fleeting as the dark grey dust. And when I see the same stark sign of sin and death marked on the soft faces of my children, let me breathe in the beauty of now, this present we have together, this gift of a life shared no matter how dark or dry it sometimes seems. Let the touch of another's hand on my bowed head remind me of resurrection, of hope and … [Read more...] about a mother’s prayer for ash wednesday
