Kimberlee Conway Ireton wrote this morning at Tweetspeak Poetry about Wave’s Erasure Poetry Page where they present a piece of writing. You take out words to create a poem. It’s kind of like the black-out poetry we did at Laity Lodge last fall. Here’s the black-out poem I created then. You can’t read it well […]
Five Minute Friday: Sacred Sod
“I need to go plant flowers at the cemetery this weekend,” I said. “When you and Dad are gone, will I have to do that?” My daughter brushes a blond strand off her forehead. “You don’t have to,” I smile. “I mean, is it my job, my responsibility?” I shrug. “I like to do it. […]
The Artist’s Way: Descent into Ashes
I’ve written about the story before. The one I wrote and sent to the local paper–just like Jo in Little Women. How the newspaper sent it back–rejected. They might have sent an encouraging note, but I don’t remember. I only knew they didn’t want it. It wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough. I threw […]
Five Minute Friday: The Lace of Life
My baby dress–crocheted by my Aunt Esther in 1949. “Grandma! Grandma! A worm. A worm in my room!” She sounds hysterical. I leap out of bed. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” She’s reacting to a new medicine. Not so well. “Don’t open the door! It’ll fall on your head! It’s moving!” She’s sobbing. I run to […]
More Than Enough
“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. “I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.” “You mean you can’t take less,” said the Hatter. “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.” More Than Enough More always more to do to […]
Clinging to the Muchness of This
Isaiah 43:1 “I’m adopted!” I spit those words at my parents and slammed the door. It was about the worse thing I could think of to say. I didn’t know what adopted meant, but I was pretty sure it meant I didn’t belong. That they didn’t really love me. How could they? How much […]
I’m Afraid to Read Ann Voskamp
“What are you hiding?” She asked. I stared at her. “What do you mean?” (It probably really came out like “Whaddayamean?”) I’d been transcribing reports for Heidi, a rehabilitation nurse, for several months. “I tell you about my family, stuff I’m doing, but you never tell me anything about you. It’s like you’re in the […]
In Which I Pin a Bat With a Ragu Jar
(Photo has absolutely nothing to do with this story because… leaking bat) It is loud here. Very. Loud. It all starts when oldest grand girl comes out of her bedroom and begins to scream about the bat swooping over my head and around the living room and into the kitchen and back into the living […]
Are We Crazy?
Absolutely free! But it can cause worse damage yellow lace, age spots from rusting. Drives you a little crazy. Rust–one of the toughest stains, but all you really need is the safer substitute, a splash of something. Swish! A sweeter smelling way, a secret liquid that makes you tight and taut. It’s all you really […]
They Call Him . . .
September 4, 2012: Today I’m linking this post with the synchroblog celebrating the release of Inciting Incidents, where six creatives share their stories about collisions of dreams and disappointments, of clashes between faith and the “reality of our broken planet.” Be sure to explore the Inciting Incidents website–including the free gifts and a boatload of free […]
