Dear Home, I miss you. I miss what you used to give me: shelter, warmth, and security. I miss running up and down your steps—taking the stairs two at a time and always jumping down from three up (much to … Continue reading
“The legacy we leave is not just in our possessions, but in the quality of our lives…The greatest waste in all of our earth, which cannot be recycled or reclaimed, is our waste of the time that God has given … Continue reading
As an only child for seven years, writing was one of my first companions—after stuffed animals and Barbie dolls, that is. And unlike my imaginary friends (of which I had many), words were tangible and ostensibly powerful. Even then I loved that words are adaptable to any situation; and there are always more to discover and add to my collection. Finding a fantastic new word is like receiving a gift from a secret admirer—and the gift suits you perfectly—a new possession so apt it feels old.
As an adult, I still enjoy playing with words. They can be as supple as Play-Doh and as solid as Legos. Words are conducive to both the serious and the light. They can make you think, make you angry, make you laugh, or make you cry.
Writing is alchemy. It is mysterious magic—conjuring ideas, characters, landscapes and more out of mere syllables—willing something into existence out of loops and lines and curves. Starting movements, forging history, testing paradigms with nothing but words.
Writing is the path, the destination, and the journey. It is an act of perpetual exploration and discovery. It is the vehicle—a means of moving to new and unexplored regions of imagination and reality. It is a mirror, a microscope, a rhythm, and a melody. Quite simply: writing is everything.
There’s only one day a year that a small part of me wishes I weren’t married—Mother’s Day. You see, my mother has been dead for longer than I’ve been friends with, dating, engaged to, or married to my husband. She’s … Continue reading
Things I’ve been in thirty-nine years: Miracle Confident Big Sister (twice) Broken Baptized Insecure Dancer Depressed (a few times) Athlete Dislocated Sleep-Deprived Student Graduate Overwhelmed Teacher Mourner Lost Unsure Home (again) Coach Assistant Associate Editor Writer Worried Best Friend Girlfriend … Continue reading
I have always enjoyed watching the Olympics. I hope to experience them in person one day. The Olympic Games encompass everything I love about sports: excellence in athletic ability, underdogs defying odds, newcomers, veterans, national pride, international unity, and all … Continue reading
Perhaps it’s just a sign of my age. Last year began with sickness—mine. This year began with a number of people I know (or am in some way connected to) dying. It doesn’t seem right for a new year to … Continue reading
I spend a lot of my life straddling a dichotomy. I am simultaneously assured of my greatness and afraid of my mediocrity. I am at once full of despair and hope for our world and our country. I am both … Continue reading
I’ve always been prone to nostalgia. I had it good as a kid, and I knew it. And while I do find joy in the present and try to cultivate hope for the future, there is an allure to memory … Continue reading
When did it become so dangerous to disagree? When did we decide that those with different opinions, perspectives, or approaches were not just wrong but worthy of contempt? When did a peaceful protest or pronouncement that made us uncomfortable weigh … Continue reading