Remembering
When we cannot speak to God, cannot even say the barest “I love you,” we are carried.
Courtney Zonnefeld graduated in 2018 with a degree in writing. She currently lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she works for Eerdmans Books for Young Readers. In her free time, she enjoys reading, baking, and saving up for more herb plants. You can usually find her wandering a farmer’s market, hunting for vintage books, or browsing the tea selection in coffee shops.
O is for Out
Several things happen at once: ba-boom. Flicker. Shatter.
Confessions of a Birdwatching Hypocrite
While the pace of change has slowed down, my identity is still catching up.
Orpheus, Eurydice, and the Inevitable
In the many centuries of death and love and loss since this story was first told, when would we not return to this story?
Fireflies and Drafting Days
On paper, on screen, will you see my words?
Table for One
Living alone doesn’t have to mean eating alone.
On Val/Galentine’s Day
A craving for apples doesn’t vanish just because you planted an orange tree.
Unpacking the Bookshelf
Each title is an era trapped in amber, a fossil record of a former self.
The Weather Outside is Frightful
Thick, globby specks of white dotted the sky, like Impressionist brushstrokes viewed too close up.
18 Steps to Lemon Meringue Pie
14. Whip the egg whites until “stiff peaks form,” a description that—even after over ten years of making this recipe—you still can’t confidently identify.
Teach Us to Pray
Teach me the quiet virtue of janitors and night stockers. Of saints who wake and sleep and live—and that is enough.
On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake!
When the show released its most recent episodes on US Netflix earlier this month, I of course hit play as soon as I could. But I—like hundreds of others tweeting and otherwise panicking on social media—immediately noticed a difference.
Solitude and I-80
And then—after all that hectic activity—all I had to do was drive. For five hours. On the same road. Beside a repeating pattern of corn and soybeans.
