he made me cake

his hands–the ones that hold me in the dark and press palms against pain and fold nightly into prayer–these hands make carrot cake from scratch for my birthday. and they’ve never looked so beautiful. and i know it’s his way of saying i wish i...

Guest Post: Jen @ Finding Heaven

(today i’d like to welcome my friend, jen, from finding heaven… here, she talks about the color of grace…)For most of my life, I have lived in a world that is only black and white, where there is north or south, yes or no, here or there, right or...

when a father sings to his child

we never talked about things like the birds and the bees or why the sky was blue or what was making me hurt so badly i couldn’t eat, but my father would sing to me, at night, especially when storms thundered the skies and i’ll always remember his voice,...

becoming a family of four

“this is how it works,” he whispered to the one tucked in folds of blue. “when you’re hurt and needing a hug, you go to mommy. and when you’re wanting a good time, you come to me.”they lie on crimson sheets while i brush my teeth...