In the past few weeks my life has felt like an orchestra. A series of events, unrelated, coming together to produce one single message: I lack. I fail. I fall. Often. I am woman and yet still very much little girl needing my Daddy’s guardrails. But to stay beholden to...
Practice. All day long we practice. From turning out the lights when we leave a room, to giving napkins their place in our laps and shoes their home in the shoe-basket, to speaking about the beauty of a sibling instead of their faults — we practice. We are...
The crickets kept me company on the second Indian-summer morning in a row, where grief was my alarm clock. The window cracked as if it were spring while I sat hunched over my Bible with winter on my insides. Are you sure you picked the right girl, God? Our life is...
I pass it ten times a day and think “oh, I need to water that.” Poor, neglected houseplant that has traveled with me from Virginia to Missouri, through my footloose and fancy-free days to being a mother of two. And then four. This plant has seen it all....
I buried my head in the pillows of the couch like I was that teenager, all over again, the one who lost her spot on the cheerleading squad. Looking back, I wonder if my dad, when he held me that night my high school experience felt shunted, looked at my circumstances...
Nate tells me I need more humor here. More funny-Sara posts. This is typically not hard for someone who has awkward-and-uncomfortable-at-the-moment-but-later-very-funny anecdotes that follow her like Pigpen’s dust cloud. However, the intensity of this adoption...
