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.
Because all the #MeToo’s has me wanting to remind women, you can tell your story and it can be healing. 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… Continue reading There Was a Day
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
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
“I turn women into perfect 10’s,” my cosmetology student boasted, sweeping his gaze down my form. The implication, of course, was that he could fix me up. Take me from my current rating, which whatever it was, certainly wasn’t a 10, to that elusive pinnacle of beauty that women crave. For a moment I didn’t… Continue reading A Perfect 10