Driving in Fog
The fog blew in gusts across the road, walls of white, stark and blinding against the black of the night. Headlights blinked into existence between patches of fog but disappeared as another cloud quickly rolled in. The field of vision was limited to a stone’s throw past the hood of the car. It felt isolating, like driving in a white bubble. In a vain attempt at better visibility, the driver turned on the brights. We were met with their blinding reflection against the fog and immediately switched them back off, a predictable outcome. Hunching over the steering wheel, squinting, the driver involuntarily tried anything and everything hoping for clarity. White…
Another Blank Page
There’s something special about the turn of a new year. I enjoy watching it play out on social media. I love to see people acknowledge the things they’ve survived and turn with a hopeful eye to the new year. It’s a white page waiting for the first strokes of paint to color it beautiful, an empty journal waiting for the first words of prose to fill it, a blank staff ready for the opening notes of a new melody. December 31st feels like standing on a precipice, waiting to take the first step into something exciting and new. And then sometimes the clock strikes 12, and you get slapped in…
Silly Traditions & New Resolutions
Ten years ago, John and I rang in the new year/new decade on a snow-covered rooftop in Seoul. We took our dogs and two bottles of sparkling cider to the top of our apartment building and looked out across the skyline for fireworks. We couldn’t see any from our vantage point, but we laughed at our failed plan and enjoyed each other’s company anyway. As the clock struck midnight, we participated in our annual cider chug– a silly tradition started by my brother in the early 2000s. Each person cracks a bottle of sparkling cider or grape juice and races to drink their beverage first. The bottles had chilled in…
- Adoption, Faith, Family, Hope, Hydranencephaly, Life, Special Needs, Special Needs Parenting, Unexpected
Impossible
“It’s impossible.” I told God. Well, I didn’t tell him those exact words, my actions did. I stopped praying for something that’s been heavy on my heart. I gave up hope. I know he’s the God of miracles, but I’ve been praying for years and this thing felt too far gone. I became frustrated praying for something that repeatedly went unanswered. My persistence didn’t seem to pay off, things are no better than when I started praying. It is extremely hard to have faith in God when it feels like he’s letting you down. My mind attempts mental gymnastics to not face the reality that God can simultaneously be sovereign and…
Disappearing Mountains
I recently got prescription glasses. I was the last hold out in my childhood family of 4, but driving around in a new city and squinting while attempting to read street signs wasn’t my cup of tea, so I caved. It’s not a strong prescription, but when I slipped on the metal frames and looked out across the horizon I was amazed at the clarity of the mountains here. I didn’t realize that the slightly blurry haze to their peaks was the result of my impaired vision, not their distance. On a clear day, when the sun shines down from a brilliant blue sky onto the mountains, the view is…
Telling Whoppers
The other night, my dad and I were driving with a car full of boys. The four boys ranged in age from 4 to 13, and their conversations were comical and varied; farts, dogs, superheroes, and all manner of randomness. Their energy was pinging around the car, a last hurrah before getting home for bedtime. I was only partially listening to their conversation when my ears picked on a whopper of a tale coming from the backseat. A story from one of the boys about how he helped a wolf in his backyard. “Fortunately” this little boy was a hero, calmly letting the wolf out and away from his dogs.…
From the Oceans to the Mountains
Every blog I’ve written in the last couple of years has started with a simple thought. Over a short (and sometimes not so short) amount of time, the idea rolled around in my brain until it was fleshed out and shared here in my blog. But for the past month, ideas haven’t had time to marinate or be thoughtfully considered, hence the lack of posting. My brain has been functioning in a hop-skip-jump pattern. It’s the effect of trying to process too many things at one time and ending up glitching like the little girl in Wreck-It-Ralph. The catalyst behind my glitch? We moved. From the beautiful beaches of the…
Good Friday
We threw our worst at you. Our pride, our envy our jealousy, our hatred. We took sins of the heart, turned them into action. Slapped, beaten humiliated, crucified. We did our best our worst. You didn’t fight back. You took it all. The sin of that moment, the sin of your people, The sin of people to come. My sin. My pride, my envy my jealousy, my hatred. You died. Our best (and our worst) is paltry. You were not defeated. You are victorious. Risen. Worthy.
- Adoption, Depression, Faith, Family, Grief, Hope, Hydranencephaly, Life, Pressure, Special Needs, Special Needs Parenting, Unexpected
What Happened in the Fire?
I don’t know why it’s so easy to flippantly read about God’s miracles. Why don’t I get excited and jazzed every time I read about how he healed a blind man with spit or commanded the wind and waves to be still. Maybe it’s the unintentional byproduct of growing up in church that somehow these stories become “normal” to me. There’s nothing normal about the miraculous. You might be familiar with the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. It’s found in the third chapter of Daniel in the Bible. It’s one many children hear growing up, which is interesting because it’s just one chapter. Their names are mentioned in the…
Happy Birthday, Wonder Woman
When I was a little girl, my family visited Omaha Beach in Normandy, France. Though I understood very little about the significance of the location, I have always remembered the trip. Specifically, I remember running with children of different nationalities up and down into grassy spaces that seemed like bowls carved into the ground. I remember my mother telling me that those bowls were craters caused by bombs from WWII. I didn’t understand the significance, my six year old self couldn’t imagine the type of destruction that could leave permanent marks in the earth decades later. I couldn’t comprehend the death, the grief, that each of those craters caused, rippling…
