I stand in the kitchen, cheeks hot with shame, eyes barely holding back tears, and I stir. I stir the dinner that simmers on the stove—just like I stirred the pot with my husband as I simmered in the laundry room just a few moments earlier. I vigorously mix the food and little bits of sauce splash out of the pan—just like I carelessly mixed all my frustrations of the day, allowing them to spill over into the busy night we had planned. It’s a Wednesday evening and it’s been one of those days. You know, the kind of day where every little thing seems to go sideways? The…
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“Just pray about it” my mother said with a sigh. I can’t recall exactly what we were talking about as I rested on her bed, my forearm draped over my eyes which were probably wet from crying. I was somewhere between the ages of 14 and 17, in those most precarious teenage years, and I certainly did not appreciate my mom’s tendency to turn everything toward prayer. In fact, I’m sure I let her know just exactly how much I didn’t like her prayer advice a time or two. And I’m sure I was probably not kind in sharing my opinion. Oh, the ways we think we know everything as…
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On a sunny Wednesday afternoon earlier this year, I was in my office chipping away at a list of to-dos when a message popped up on my phone. It was from a sweet woman at my parish. She was asking if I’d be willing to join a ministry that needed additional help. “Pray about it and let me know. We’d love to have you join us!” she wrote. I put my phone down and sighed. I paused for a moment and noticed a tightness in my chest as my brain started to move just a little bit faster. I want to say yes but can I really add another thing…
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This blogpost was originally written for Women at Well and was published on their blog in April of 2022. I’ve been putting this blogpost off all week. Not that I normally get my blogposts done too far ahead of the deadline…but this blogpost feels especially procrastinated… and especially taxing. Here I sit, on Sunday evening, in the stillness of my office. The dim light of the lamp on my bookcase illuminates the room, and my dog is softly snoring on her bed behind me. I’ve been staring at my laptop for the better part of 45 minutes. Type, type, type. Hold the backspace key. Type again. Backspace again. Words have…
