• Giving It Up

    http://www.thechristianpulse.com/2010/08/20/giving-it-up/ “Lord, please. I can’t.” My anxiety is a vise, the more I struggle, the tighter it grips, wringing the air from my lungs.Kyle’s room is quiet. Empty, except for the fat black cat and me. We lie curled together under the blue and red Spiderman comforter, my face buried in the pillow, the cat’s face buried in my stomach. The sheets are cold—they haven’t been slept in or washed in three weeks. I inhale the little boy scent that is my son—watermelon shampoo, grass, strawberry pop-tarts. What if he doesn’t come home? What if this is all I will have of him? I close my eyes and concentrate and…

  • The Belly of the Bus

    http://www.crosswalk.com/family/homeschool/the-belly-of-the-bus-11637337.html It’s that time again. I rise with the sun, eager for what this school year will bring, yet sad to see summer end. And on this day, once again, the annual ritual outside my window lures me in. Across, the street, Liz opens her door, tightening the belt on her blue terry robe as her girls scramble out underneath her arm. Next door, Dawn, toddler on her hip, strolls down the driveway. Her triplets follow behind, turning toward the bus stop, carrying purple lunchboxes and bright pink backpacks—no doubt filled with perfectly tipped crayons, unused glue sticks, and tightly capped markers. Two houses down, Tommy, laced into a pristine…

  • And Always Be Thankful

    http://www.thechristianpulse.com/2010/11/26/and-always-be-thankful/ With a sigh, I drop into my favorite overstuffed chair and rest my cheek against the green tweed fabric. Leftover turkey, green beans, and mashed potatoes, brown with gravy, litter white plates scattered across the counter. The spicy aroma of warm pumpkin pie floats into the family room. My boys tear through the room, flashing silver foam swords, my husband on their trail. He scoops them up and plops them down on the couch next to my sister and my grandpa. “Turn the game up, I can’t hear the score,” My mom yells from the kitchen. The dishwasher clicks on and I tune out the soft hum and close…

  • The Uninvited

    http://www.thechristianpulse.com/2010/12/17/the-uninvited/ Dinner begins—I look at my watch—now. Cars have pulled in and out of my neighbor’s driveways for the last half-hour. Babysitters arrive. Smartly dressed couples depart. From my perch on the window ledge, I admire Melissa’s sapphire holiday dress and envy Dawn’s red high heels. Even though I can’t see up close, I’m sure Jen sports glittery earrings to accent her new haircut. A swift glance down at my black sweat pants and stained white T-shirt is enough to remind me that I’m not going to this holiday dinner. My husband peeks around the corner. “Let’s go eat sushi at Geisha.” “Not in the mood.” He comes to stand…

  • The Other Side

    http://www.thechristianpulse.com/2011/03/15/the-other-side/ My eighth grader slumps at the kitchen table, his mouth curved down into his frustration frown, as I leaf through his unfinished homework. Tears fill his eyes. “Dad didn’t help me while you were gone. He played Wii every night.” Heat rises from my chest, up my neck. Settles into my face. My, “What?” comes out a strangled half cry-half scream as I lunge for my cell. Before my hand touches the phone, a small voice breaks through my fury. Wait. Wait? Wait an hour. Are You crazy, Lord? An hour will douse the flame of my anger. In an hour, I will forget all the nasty, witty accusations…

  • Jeffrey’s Wheel

    http://www.crosswalk.com/family/homeschool/encouragement/stepping-off-the-wheel-of-worry.html 3:00 A.M. I can just make out the small green numbers on the cable box. Why did I think this couch would be more comfortable than my bed? My body pillow hangs off the cushions and the blanket tangles around my legs. At least I’m free to toss and turn without heavy sighs from my husband’s side of the bed. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Jeffrey scampers inside the blue plastic wheel hooked to the bars of his hamster cage. For the last hour, I’ve been tossing and turning to the rhythm of his relentless, nocturnal quest. The wheel spins faster and faster. Jeffrey goes nowhere. Pushing my head into the…

  • Can God Find Me Anywhere? Even in a Restroom?

    http://www.crosswalk.com/faith/women/can-god-find-me-anywhere.html I ran down the hall desperate for a quiet place to meet God. Around the corner, through an old wooden door, an alcove hid a tiny restroom in the north end of the hospital. I pushed through the door and locked myself in the cold, grey refuge of the single stall. A knot formed in my chest, tight and suffocating. “Lord, please. I need to be alone. Don’t let anyone need to use this restroom.” I stared at the chipped, stained tiles. Would God meet me here? In a worn, broken down, dirty restroom? Footsteps echoed outside the door. I held my breath as they paused, then continued on.…