She’d never finish hers, but the smell of the chicken was enough to remind her we loved her.
I didn’t cry at this graduation, like I did all those years ago on the stage of my elementary school, but I would cry later.
Sometimes I am lulled into a false sense of simplicity.
The US eventually emerged from The Great Depression, but my grandmother did not.
I had learned pretty quickly that Reddit was not friendly to women, people in ethnic minority groups, people in sexual minority groups…or really anyone.
I don’t know how long I do this, but I have begun making a map in my head of the curves and turns in the wall.
“All adoption begins with loss.” I’ve chewed on that phrase for months, and the flavor hasn’t yet gone out of it.
In a word: I am so hopelessly imperfect it frequently causes me to crawl into a blanket fort and wish the world away.
The raven knows that the world is no friend to the vulnerable, and so it finds as many ways as it can to diversify its armor, to outwit its prey, and to outlive its enemies.
Tommy Boy, the stupid, slapstick-esque comedy with Chris Farley and David Spade that was made in 1995, is not a good movie.
Ash Ketchum lives in a world where all animals can be pets. Ash Ketchum’s life is one big adventure, and everyone he knows has a life as full of destiny as he does.
10. If it’s broken, don’t buy a new one: try to fix it. Hot glue, superglue, epoxy, solder. In that order.
ENTER: EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD AND ME. Some might call the cut and color of her clothes bold and loud, while others might use the word “garish.”
There isn’t some silver-bullet cure, some as-seen-on-TV solution that’s going to come into my accident-prone, easily distracted brain and take away the challenges of the life I want to live.
There were so many unknowns I couldn’t control or explain, so I just avoided them. All of them. Everything. I avoided everything.
If you pick a banana, some honey, and a bowl of instant oatmeal go to 5. If you choose an everything bagel and heaping serving of cream cheese, go to 4.
Finally, I have reached the pinnacle. This is what we have been waiting for for so long. A world without men. A world ruled by women. No longer under the thumb of the patriarchy, we are free to keep our floral soaps by the sink.
But I have not yet figured out how to be happy in a world that is torn apart every day by war and hate, by hunger and sickness, by itself. I’ve learned this semester that being a social worker necessarily means knowing that there is more fallenness in this world than we can bear.
Now that I’m reasonably adult-ish, I’m not so hard on my mother. She still cries at all movies, and she still sings only harmonies, but I tend to stay in the room for these things now.
For that split second, I was out there, in nothingness. Nothing above me but air, nothing in front of me but endless expanse, nothing below me but mystery.
Hearing my mom talk lovingly about her scooter and all the great happiness it would bring her, my brothers and I all laughed like bullies in the cafeteria.
If you’ve got $157 to blow in a movie theater this month and a rom-com that passes the Bechdel Test is something that catches your fancy, I’d suggest Trainwreck.
Today is Saturday, and though I meant to wake up early and take this run in the morning, life got in the way. Greasy, sloppy life, not thrilling, carpe diem life.
I think I spent my whole childhood waiting in anticipation of 6th grade. In kindergarten, we got 6th grade buddies who would read to us once a week and play with us on the playground.
This movie, and this blog, could be a testament to how much this all hurts: life, and time, and how they just refuse to stop moving on. We all have a time we’re trying to get to.
Such a sentence reminds the world that everything is a living art, every idea can be made new again, every stone can have the moss pulled off and be rolled back down a hill.
I suppose it was not until I drove it home, filled it with water and plant food, and plugged it in that I realized how far in over my head I truly was.
I am utterly inept at planning my own life. I rarely even finish a to-do list on a daily basis. But what does it look like to trust God’s plans for my groceries or my smart phone?
Father, God, I thank you for your son, for this meal, and for the elders’ wives who bring those really great appetizers on the Lord’s Supper Sundays.
What am I doing here, I ask myself in a moment of vulnerability. (I made a deal with myself months ago that I would stop asking that question.)