The Gift of Sorrow: Finding God in Depression

What kind of a Christian can’t find her all in all in Christ? I was supposed to have the joy, joy, joy down in my heart to stay, right? If I was really following Christ, He’d instantly transform all this grief into joy, right? The heavens should open up and light pour down, chasing away all this darkness.

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Don’t Blame the Nachos: Freedom from an Eating Disorder

You see, I still, after all these years and all these lessons, I still succumb to my eating disorder daily. Don’t get me wrong, it looks a lot prettier than it used to. I don’t pop laxatives like candy and I don’t end a feast on my knees in front of the toilet. I don’t even eat to the point of pain anymore, no third or fourth or fifth servings- no half-gallon of ice cream straight out of the carton. Yet I still…

The Darker the Night…

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.

The Harvest is Coming

Lately I feel like I’m drowning. My life has been consumed with an avalanche. An avalanche of apricots. Yup, you read that right. Apricots. Not figurative apricots, mind you. Real live, sweet and juicy apricots are everywhere right now. A few hundred of them are spread across my dining room table, another hundred grace the… Continue reading The Harvest is Coming

Loving Eeyore

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

Just Like My Mother…

“You’re just like your mother.” I’ve heard that curse thrown at many a woman, and never as a compliment. Just like your mother. The implication? Critical. Nagging. Sharp-tongued. Impossible to please. But the phrase always gave me hope. If all women eventually transform into images of their moms, I was seriously in luck! Nancy Smerdell is one… Continue reading Just Like My Mother…