December 24, 2018

How any poem is created is a mystery to me. How concrete (shape) poems like the three below happen is an even greater mystery. I had nothing in my mind. Then bam! a shape. Why one shape shows up and not another is God stuff. Why one word, the heart of the poem, dominat...

August 6, 2018

Our leader called it a circle-story.

The beginning of the video was about a little boy receiving a gift of soap in a shoebox. The closing focused on that same person as an adult giving a bar of soap to another as one gift item in a shoebox.

That same evening, ten of us p...

July 23, 2018

I read these words this past week in someone else’s writing. My heart immediately jumped. Confirmation. Me, too. God called me to write, too.

Relief. I did not just stumble into it.

In the early years, I recall enjoying penmanship, doodling, the smell of ink, the feel of...

January 2, 2018

It’s a name straight out of the Good Book, and she is staying at our house this week. It’s Christmas break from college stress, from flatlands, from busyness.

I’m half-sick with sinus infection, so I’ll take all the Rebecca-time I can get.

Rebecca is calm and adds no pre...

December 11, 2017

My mother left when I was 14. Daddy sat on the floor in a corner. He drank too much. But I had my six brothers and my five sisters.

As the oldest girl, my job was clear: take care of the younger ones. It never occurred to me that I might need someone to take care of me.

...

December 4, 2017

The tail end of fall is falling outside. Leaves pile up.

A holy thing.

My husband is disturbed by the leaves and wants time to mow them. Childhood comes to my mind every time I kick leaves. How I loved falling headlong into a pile. I say, “No hurry on that. I’m loving th...

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