Religion

The Things We Missed

The Things We Missed

Sometimes I think about how different my mom’s childhood was from my own, not because she was born almost three decades earlier, but because her dad died in an accident when she was only four years old. She lived her whole life without knowing the love of a dad or experiencing the unique ways that good dads tend to challenge and encourage us. She had a good one. But she missed him.

What Will We Do With What We Know?

What Will We Do With What We Know?

An interesting thing about being married for almost three decades is that I have gotten pretty good at predicting how Chad will feel about things. The knowledge that I’ve gained over these years goes far beyond the trivia that when he’s eating a hamburger he likes mayonnaise on one bun and mustard on the other. Or that he likes to hang his freshly dry cleaned clothes facing right and his laundered clothes facing left in his closet. Or even that he’s been taking 20 minute power naps every day since was in his 20s.

He Is Strong Enough

He Is Strong Enough

Sometimes I get homesick for my mother in the kitchen on summer mornings, drinking her coffee and making muffins in her bathrobe. I remember the sights and sounds of those lazy mornings when I was a kid: the oven door opening and closing, the muffled chatter of talk shows on the television, that particularly peaceful way that light streams into your bedroom on a morning when you’re a kid who has no place to be.

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