Since childhood I had held my personal night at bay with artificial light of my own design: third helpings of pizza and forgetting myself in five books a day, outrageous lies and sexual exploits, hash laced joints and lines of meth, camel menthols and twelve hour workdays. I had always lost myself in a hundred things so that I never had to face the night inside.
I once heard a speaker claim that one of the biggest problems with Christians was a lack of imagination. I don’t remember anymore who said it, or the topic of the speech it was used in. But that part stuck. A lack of imagination? Maybe other Christians! But me? Me!?! I’ve got a vivid imagination.… Continue reading The Problem with Christians
The old gray donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, ‘Why?’ and sometimes he thought, ‘Wherefore?’ and sometimes he thought, ‘Inasmuch as which?’- and sometimes he didn’t quite know what… Continue reading Loving Eeyore
“Why did God let me go through all this? How could he use this ugliness?” That was the plaintive question of one woman I spoke to a few weeks ago. Alcoholism, homelessness, drug addiction, death of a child, broken relationships- her life before Christ was a mess. Even now she was haunted by the consequences,… Continue reading Strengthen Your Sister
How do you tell your new husband that the (relatively) sane woman he married is on leave and a weepy clinically depressed woman is moving in? How do you tell him that you’re not sure how long she’ll stick around, a day, a week, or a month, but last time she visited she really overstayed her… Continue reading My Love, the Darkness is Coming
At 18, living alone in a new city, there was a day I decided to wear only red. The color would be my brand, my hallmark, my calling card. In a strange new place, where I was as of yet anonymous, I could choose to become anyone, anything. I chose red. I visited dozens of… Continue reading A Softer Shade of Red
There was a day A day she began To crave the destruction Of hands raised in fury Of jagged edged words Of nostrils flaring over thin lips There was a day A day she decided To never let herself be pretty Old men creep, searching for pretty Cast kisses in basement rooms Grope with knotted blue hands… Continue reading Childhood Days
