“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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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…
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“Well, have you prayed about it?” my mother asks as she gently rubs her thumb over my eyebrow. My long blonde hair rests in little nests on the pillows on my parents’ bed as I lay on my back staring intently at the ceiling. With the utterance of her question, I feel my teenage eyes start to roll and I can hear my frustration sizzle against the cool blue sheets. “Why do you always say that?” I snap. “That doesn’t help me at all. I don’t know what to do and now you’re just telling me to pray!?” I can feel the words sting my lips as they leave my…
