Remember that manuscript I told you about? The draft of a memoir, the story of our daughters. I wrote tens of thousands of words in the years after they died, words I never shared with a soul. Then I shoved them in a drawer and plowed into another book, two. Anything to hold off on the hardest story I had to tell. I pulled that manuscript out last year. On Instagram I told you how I dusted it off, skimmed through, heart sinking, and thought: ugh. No good. All wrong. I decided I had to let it go, trash it again, start over fresh. So I did. Started clean last spring with a brand new document, brand new folder, brand new ambition, brand new determination. Guess what? Wrong again. Turns out I couldn't read my own words with true eyes. One night in prayer, I told God I was ready to jump in and start this brand-new book—and clear as day, I heard one word. No. No? NO?! What do you mean NO? I was ready for this, I protested. I had a plan for starting anew, … [Read more...] about the wonder of wrong
grief
the pitter-patter
Their feet crush me. Tiny toes curling, ancient reflex. Baby socks lost in the dryer like doll clothing. Toddler tiptoes to reach the sink. Preschool slip-ons for circle time. Sport shoes for season after season—cleats, sneakers, boots. I know their feet intimately. Kiss them at diaper changes, sweet antidote to stink. Bathe them in bubbles and dry them with duck towels. Wrestle on socks and shoes for years and years. Corral each kid and clip twenty nails, fingers and toes. Motherhood in daily details, mundane math, rote routine. But I never remember their shoe sizes; I am always shocked at the store, at their growth. When we brought our second son home from the hospital, his big brother’s feet startled me. Suddenly giant, boy-ish, behemoth. Overnight they had soared in size. I stared at his feet, disbelieving as he crawled into my lap to get a closer look at the baby. How had he turned into a toddler when I wasn’t looking? Half blessing, half betrayal. Today he steals my … [Read more...] about the pitter-patter
in an instant
Sitting at my desk, working on words of loss, I watch a thousand cottonwood seeds drift by the window. White wisps rising on the breeze, lifted from my sight. Summer's snow globe, shaken and set to spin. I remember noticing them, as if for the first time, the summer after our twins died. One afternoon the blue sky was filled with a million floating puffs, light and airy. As I stumbled staring up at them, circling, I could see, startling: it's like every small soul who's leaving this side of life and rushing to whatever comes next. Right before my eyes. Suddenly I could see. The flash of an instant when the tiny and the cosmic connect. They weren't nothing, these babies we lost, so many of us, millions. They weren't just seeds either, mere possibility and potential. They were life, they were hope, they were real, they were all around us, they were too many to count. We wanted them to stay, but they floated just beyond our reach, and every time we grasped after them, the … [Read more...] about in an instant
the power of poetry (when words pale)
In the years since our twin daughters died, I've shared in this space some of what helped me grieve. Scripture, of course. Community, in the church and among parents who have experienced loss like ours. Prayer, at turns angry, sorrowful, empty, or hopeful. What I've never written about is poetry. On my computer and in my filing cabinet, I keep (giant, growing) folders of poetry that I love. Every time I come across a poem that clutches the core of me, I tuck it there. Essays and novels and memoirs I can read by the dozen, and I do, and they change me. But poetry stays with me longer than anything else. After Maggie and Abby died, I started a new collection of poetry. For me, for grief. A few that friends and strangers sent to me or tucked into sympathy cards. Many that I found myself, unbidden. Some that I rediscovered, now knowing what they meant. I poured through books of grief poetry, gut-grateful for others who knew the healing power of words. But I also needed to … [Read more...] about the power of poetry (when words pale)
