My Mom and Mary Tyler Moore
My siblings had a different mom. Biologically she was the same, but I’m the last born. The baby. The fifth….
Blog
Waiting with Open Hands
It’s happened before. I enter the bathroom, thick with sleep and running late. In my haste, I wrench open the…
Baseball Dreams Come True
On a cool afternoon in the early 80s, I unrolled my reflective tanning blanket to sunbathe at my family’s Wisconsin…
In-Between Times
Soft autumn light colored the world this morning. I hurried outside to see dawn, not satisfied with my window’s limitations….
Mending: What An Ancient Art Form Teaches Us About Healing
He has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV Children’s squeals and laughter compete with the…
Surprise Lessons
Assorted odors infiltrate my seventh period classroom. Thirty-two students—smelling of drugstore perfume, Dorito dust, and adolescent sweat—spill into every available…
Growing Gratitude
The breeze ruffles my hair as I pedal steadily down the path. The smell of frying bacon wafts from a nearby…
Tomorrow’s Tomorrow
Family and friends assemble under the white canopy, murmuring greetings as they find seats. The sun peeks through bubbly…
Dad’s Advice
When my husband and I married, there was an understanding: No Children. “Childless by choice,” I’d tell people, preferring that…
An Announcement…
Dear Heartwired Writing friends, I am pleased to announce my essay, “Gifts from Dark Places,” will be featured in the upcoming…