Not That Job-y

Job… in case you were wondering. In case last week when I said, “No one ever sends you to Isaiah in the midst of tragedy,” you asked, “Well, then where do they send you?” In my experience, the answer is Job. I think this is an appropriate response, really. I don’t think Job is a … More Not That Job-y

Contradictions

Today, I placed a single white rose on Kurt Vonnegut’s grave. Well… kind of. Today I went on a wild goose chase for Kurt Vonnegut’s grave, ultimately learned that his final resting place is unknown to anyone, and instead left a rose on his father’s grave, but I mean, it was the same name, so … More Contradictions

Home

It’s crowded, overwhelming. People are everywhere. Some look at me, some don’t. I look at both no one and everyone at the same time. This isn’t my thing. Crowds, heels, dresses, sobriety. Where’s the bar? How far can it be? How long does it take to get a drink? Just one drink? Or I guess … More Home

Car Rides

My love language is car rides. Got an errand to run? Take me with you. Forgot one thing at the grocery store and need someone to be a warm body in the front seat so that you don’t have to actually park the car? I’m right there. Have some random Facebook Marketplace item to pick … More Car Rides

Grief

Grief is dreaming. It is me watching, working, manufacturing the process of making all of your dreams come true, even if you’re not here to see it. Grief is the fear of the bittersweet ache sure to appear on the day that I start pursuing my own dreams again. Yours are easier. Yours keep you … More Grief

Pain, The Beatles, and a Love Note to My Readers

“And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer: Let it be.” In a world of division, so many are seeking that “thing.” That thing that crosses over strong barriers. That thing that can sew together even the most divided of adversaries. That thing that all can relate to, … More Pain, The Beatles, and a Love Note to My Readers

Tragic Grace

I have lived a million people’s tragedies, and I always seem to live it way better than they do. I mean, we all have, right? We’ve read books and watched movies. We have heard, seen, read people’s stories. We hear stories about the many things that create a life, and unfortunately, much of that is … More Tragic Grace

Heaven, Grandmothers, and Little Old Crochet Hooks

Yellow yarn, pink hook. “It’s a snake,” eight-year-old me said holding up a long chain of crochet. I remember the warmth of my grandma’s living room. I remember the smell of roast in her kitchen. I remember the color of the yarn- yellow. The color of the crochet hook- pink. “It’s wonderful,” she said, examining … More Heaven, Grandmothers, and Little Old Crochet Hooks