On spring, writing and avoiding riotous thought monkeys

Twitter reminds me repeatedly through various posts, “writers write.” I want to be a writer.

Today, however, I don’t want to do the grueling work. Instead, I’d like to gloss over the mess gurgling in me. Lately, I’ll eagerly write other bits, Tasty Thursday posts, or things that feel somehow outside of me. I dutifully post to honor commitments I made to my accountability partner and my husband. Continue reading

A Breakfast Eye-Opener

022816 Looking out window

Chatting with J about this infertility blog series, I started talking about how it hurts to feel like an outsider when others start swapping pregnancy stories. I feel like I’m watching a scene from behind a glass: eagerly gazing out, nose smushed up on the window, and longing to get outside. But, the door is locked to me.

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Remembering Pippin Cat

Pippin header

On our honeymoon over ten years ago, I told J that I wanted to look at cats when we got back home. Our lease permitted them, and now that our lives seemed settled, I wanted a pet. So, the day after our honeymoon, while J went to work, I headed to the humane society to check out cats.

Looking didn’t last long. I saw Pippin, or rather Malone as he was called then. Our eyes met. We bonded. Boom. I fell in love with him. We snuggled. We played. I put a hold on him, and dragged J kicking and screaming to meet him later that day.

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Seeking a Heart Like Jesus’s: Early Reflections on Homelessness

Just came back from a long road trip with J as we explored North Carolina and Tennessee.  We had tons of fun hiking together, sweating to death in the heat and humidity, snapping hundreds of pictures, seeing the beauty nature offers in abundance, and visiting places with some serious history.

In experiencing these new places, somberness came to roost.  There’s something about being away from the familiar and the routine that helps me see life from a different perspective and forces me to confront realities outside myself.

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