I see the clouds. Gray and foreboding.
Covering the sky.
They hover. And long for release.
The day closes. The sky goes dark.
The clouds remain, but blend into the darkness.
Unseen. Waiting.
Asking, part 2
I have never been particularly good at prayer — diligence, faithfulness or even lament. “Prayer warrior” would never make my resume. I’ve known people who are amazing at this. The ones who use a journal or index cards with names for each day of the week. Or pray for an hour each day. Or have a particular place they always pray. I’ve known those people. And felt a sense of awe for them. I long for that kind of discipline. Continue reading “Asking, part 2”
A wild goose chase on a rainy night
It was a dark and stormy night. And by stormy, I mean the steady drizzle that’s characteristic of Northwest rain. The perfect kind of night for a wild goose chase. The website said the Richmond Night Market was open for business May through October. This particular weekend in October was supposed to be the final weekend. We were hoping the market would remind us of Thailand, where we ate mango and sticky rice and combed the makeshift booths for unique Asian handmade crafts like square lanterns and flowing tunic tops.
A princess with a great longing
Maggie was drawn to me. I couldn’t understand it. Her mom asked her if she remembered me. She searched my face.
“No,” she said, and went about the business of being six years old.
She was born just a few days after my wedding, but we didn’t meet until a few years later. We had a tea party, and she taught me how to hold my pinky the right way. At that time, it was too painful for me to pursue attachments to children. Even the ones in my family. Continue reading “A princess with a great longing”
Scars, Part 1
A year ago this March, I arrived in the US after spending two years abroad. In India. I spent two years in India. It doesn’t seem real some days, but there are scars you can’t see easily.
One is literally on my skin from the time I had a bump removed and biopsied from my finger. I didn’t think I was brave enough to have a medical procedure done in a foreign country. Would you believe the doctor’s name was Dr. Job — like the guy in the Bible that is known for his suffering? My finger gets tight now when it’s really hot outside. I can’t forget Dr. Job. Continue reading “Scars, Part 1”