imperfect prose on thursdays: blooming

he speaks to me in pictures.december dawn, he showed me a desert. i was john the baptist, roaming wild, sand in toes and stretch of blank ahead. that sunday, a sermon at church, i went alone as husband and baby were ill, i went and i cried as pastor told of...

new growth

we followed light to the hospital, light that spilled sideways from the sky like marmelade from a jar while the car yawned exhaustand i thought of our tree, still up, for i’ve been unable to take it down, this birth of christ, this disassembling of the best time...

read the stories, he says

the sled is blue and my son sits small and husband pulls him away from the house down the road winding white towards churchi’m inside in red pajamas with a couch-rest order and another, from my husband, to read the storiesi don’t want to read the stories....

it was so red

the world was on fire the day the blood camei remember thinking how glad i was i’d scrubbed toilet white as the red streaked down it was so red. and there was so much. and my stomach hurt and the sky flamed with sun as we sped into the light and i wondered if...

my little sister

she got married this weekend. my baby sister. the one pictured in this video with me. and i feel as i can just gasp and sleep and wonder where time went, and i can’t even say her new last name without tremble. and i keep picturing my little boy who stumbled down...

over at Christmas Change today…

back briefly today, to tell you, a story i wrote for Focus on the Family (Canada) magazine re: my family Christmas is appearing here today, with part 2 appearing tomorrow. love to you, friends and families, as you celebrate this season of something holy….