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
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.
One of my favorite stories in the Bible is the one about Elijah giving the prophets of Baal hell. Doesn’t sound familiar? Probably because this isn’t really the take away that most people get out of this story, and it is certainly never the Sunday School lesson theme. You may know it better by the … More Sometimes Faith Shakes
I broke up with Stephen King about three years ago. We had a solid go of it for a while- I’d read his books, he’d scare me half to death, and then a few months later I’d forgive him and we’d pick up where we left off- the next book. We would then do the … More You Are What You Read
I average about one significant celebratory moment a year. Now, do I celebrate the little seemingly non-significant celebratory moments? You bet, but in terms of my own big moments and milestones, I average about one a year. 2017- I graduated from college. 2018- I got married. 2019- We bought a house. 2020- I guess we … More Hey, Let’s Just Celebrate
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
On my right foot, near the knuckle by my big toe, my skin forms a little bubble. It happened during the summer following my first grade year. I was playing basketball with my brother and his friends, the older guys in the neighborhood. As I drove to the hoop for a layup, I scraped my … More Scars by Andrew Luetkehans
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
I have recently begun to spend time in my own pain. This is not a natural thing for me. This is not a natural thing for most people, particularly those of my generation. We live in a world where distractions are around every corner. We live in a world where we can meticulously link together … More Me and These Emotions
Saturdays are for the boys. As I struggled to write the intro to this blog, my husband offered this opening sentence as his contribution. We both laughed it off, then I wrote it down at the top of my word document, and now here it is. The perfect intro. Because despite the joking nature of … More A Season of Saturday
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