finding faith: part ii

i’ve spent this morning writing with a sleeping babe nestled on my shoulder, my one hand holding him close while working with the other. his face is nuzzled against my neck, and he breathes heavily, his tiny body rising and falling in the throes of a deep sleep. he feels safe here and i, for this moment, give thanks. for this moment, he knows nothing of the hardships this world will surely bring one day. … Read the rest

Atticus: The Mockingbird Days

I’m going to be honest: this story is not for everyone. A woman’s birth is an intensely personal and deeply subjective experience. Yet it also comes along with powerful emotions that can be difficult to sort through and process. It is for that reason that I chose to write out my birth and postpartum story; it’s for my healing. Please do remember that every pregnancy and birth is unique, even for the same woman. My Read the rest

the long way home

a few weeks ago, i had a dream. one of those dreams that stays with you, not just into the waking hours, but days later. some dreams are just that–dreams, nothing more. but this one… i remain convinced this one meant something, means something still.

in my dream, i was at a graduation of sorts. i was waiting backstage in my cap and gown, ready to walk across the stage and into a new future. … Read the rest

lovely

this one’s for the women, i think.

see, i’ve felt this stirring in my soul for weeks now. it’s truth, but it’s a hard truth, one that’s easy to forget, easy to let slip away. still, it will not let me go–that’s the thing about truth. it won’t allow itself to be ignored.

and so i keep circling around it, keep coming back to the same thing, the same message. truth must be told, Read the rest

stay

yesterday, i put my heart on my sleeve for all of social media to see when i wrote this post:
IT’S BEEN A WEEK, Y’ALL. emergency rooms + doctor’s offices, car breakdowns + mechanics bills, grad school deadlines + the end-of-year blur. long days + short nights, weary bones + achy souls. it’s been a week of gritting my teeth + digging in my heels, of emotional highs and lows (mostly lows, if i’m being Read the rest

swords into plowshares {or, what i do on days when i can’t breathe}

this morning in church, i held a moment of silence for freddie gray, and all those who have died before him: young men of color whose lives ended because of white men abusing their power. michael brown. trayvon martin. eric garner. i’ve been carrying them in my heart for months now, these brothers of mine–not because of skin color but because they were human beings, just like me, with hearts and minds and … Read the rest

when the words come home

five days ago, i scribbled some lines in a notebook–and then promptly went into the bathroom to splash water on my face to stop the tears from falling.

you see, those lines, they took on the shape of a poem of sorts, and it has been years and years since i last was able to write poetry. i don’t know; maybe my words got locked up somehow, tucked away in all my suitcases and … Read the rest

wordless things

i’ve wanted to write for weeks now, to sit down at a table with some coffee and a pen, and flesh out all the things i have inside of me. but every attempt ends up with the page blank and me frustrated and reeling in disappointment. and then i read this::

“I always find it more difficult to say the things I mean than the things I don’t.” (W. Somerset Maugham)

maybe the reason … Read the rest

the day i decided to kick fear to the curb

throughout my entire life, i’ve been the “play-it-on-the-safe-side” girl; i’m overly cautious and a meticulous planner, and i do my best to steer clear of anything that remotely resembles a risk. part of it, i’m sure, is just my personality, my nature–but it’s more than that, and i know it.

the majority of it is fear. fear of being disappointed. fear of failing. fear of looking like a fool. there are so many … Read the rest

in this place

sometimes people ask me about when i first got “saved”, and i tell them the story of the old Pentecostal church and a preacher who spoke with a slow, Southern drawl. i was young, not yet 18 years old, and still finding sure footing in my new country, in my new family who had taken me in as their own. i sat in that church and listened to stories about Jesus, and then i … Read the rest