by Emily Wierenga | Jul 18, 2011 | Uncategorized
Weak voices of a congregation singing Great is Thy Faithfulness on a Sunday, and it’s the quiet chorus of farmers and families made humble by the death of a young mother to a brain aneurism, and sometimes the stained glass seems to mock for all of its color.(Friends,... by Emily Wierenga | Jul 8, 2011 | Uncategorized
My husband has decided to be obsessed with Indian food these days so chicken tikka masala simmers on my stove while I dream of spiced winds, tearing off pieces of naan and dipping it to sneak a taste. Every time we are at the grocery store, the beautiful Indo-Canadian... by Emily Wierenga | Jul 6, 2011 | Uncategorized
The air smells of breath mints and old ladies’ perfume and the pew digs into my nine-year-old bones. I’m starving in church for more than food and my father stands up front preaching from a Book that forces us to move every few years and his white clerical collar is... by Emily Wierenga | Jul 4, 2011 | Uncategorized
his hand rests on my arm to still the sobs and i shrug it off. i want to feel the pain, i tell him. there are chip crumbs on his shirt and it’s his turn to look hurt. we’ve married this moment to the Boy with the Striped Pajamas, a movie about a jewish boy... by Emily Wierenga | Jul 3, 2011 | Uncategorized
his breath smells like breakfast sausage. i know this even as i wait at the finish line of my son’s first race. it’s canada day, and i’ve never seen his father so excited. “first we have a pancake breakfast, with sausage and bacon,” he... by Emily Wierenga | Jul 1, 2011 | Uncategorized
Love smells like rain on the earth of his chest where my cheek lies, and he can barely reach me for the child bulging belly but we find a way, and love always does. (for the rest of this mushy weekend post, find me over at michelle’s beautiful place,...