First World Probs.

My 65-year-old neighbor puts my trashcan out on the street for me every Friday morning. It’s the smallest gesture, but it means the absolute world to me. My next-door neighbors are originally from Nigeria. Earlier this year, they learned that my husband had stage four cancer, and the wife of the pair rushed out one … More First World Probs.

The Overpass

You know when you’re driving on the highway through a rainstorm and your windshield is all cloudy, and you can barely see the headlights of the car in front of you, and the sound of it all, the rain and wind, and sometimes even hail, is just pounding on your car and all of your … More The Overpass

The Lucky Ones

Yesterday, Andrew and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary. For those of you who didn’t marry a traditionalist like I did, the second wedding anniversary is the cotton anniversary. In addition to being a traditionalist, my husband is a sentimentalists. What this means is: I have a tub full of t-shirts in my basement that … More The Lucky Ones

The Christian Scapegoat

I believe my husband will be healed. I don’t mean that in the church goer’s weak interpretation of healing, which is actually dying. I believe that his body that was so forcefully intruded upon, these lungs that are pushing against the pressure of these disgusting trespassers of tumors for every breath, will be restored. I … More The Christian Scapegoat