Prayer
You are good. I’m not sure why it’s important to tell you. But I tell my dog she’s good just about as often as I tell you, and she spends a lot of time bashing her head against walls and licking her own butt. So that’s a shame.
Lauren (Boersma) Harris (’13) is a spontaneous, idealistic, independent, fierce, over-thinking, damaged, adventurous, ordinary megalomaniac with a healthy sense of self-worth and a high word count. She has been a teacher both indoors and outdoors; she loves improvised comedy, backpacking, and writing, even when it’s required.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Sep 24, 2015 | 0 comments
You are good. I’m not sure why it’s important to tell you. But I tell my dog she’s good just about as often as I tell you, and she spends a lot of time bashing her head against walls and licking her own butt. So that’s a shame.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Aug 24, 2015 | 1 comment
Growing up, I occasionally went with my dad to both the hospital and the mission. I saw the way in which he interacted with the patients of the hospital and the clients of the mission.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Jul 24, 2015 | 0 comments
The water of Lake Superior is bone-chillingly lovely in a way that could only be considered refreshing to someone whose brutalized bones could use a good, algid chill.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Jun 24, 2015
We need to remember, Stokes says, that sometimes, we are someone else’s hero. Sometimes, we are someone else’s mentor. Sometimes, we are simply a minor character. Sometimes, we are someone else’s villain.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | May 24, 2015 | 0 comments
During the first week of school, not a single one of you would laugh at my jokes. Now, some of you kind of do, probably just because you’re trying to be encouraging and nice.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Apr 24, 2015 | 0 comments
I need to flex my failure muscles, to take risks and be willing to fall flat. I need to love myself for making mistakes.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Mar 24, 2015 | 5 comments
In Denny’s, my vanilla ice cream and characteristic joyful temperament were melting into a puddle of white-chocolate raspberry pancake balls and self-loathing.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Feb 24, 2015 | 5 comments
Maybe that’s what I don’t like about the word “obligation.” It implies requirement. I have to do it. And that doesn’t seem very loving to me.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Jan 24, 2015 | 4 comments
I over-share. I talk way too much about exes and bodily functions. I don’t want a world of “Laurens,” because no one would be able to finish their dinners.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Dec 24, 2014 | 0 comments
It’s okay that you hate Christmas! You’re not the grinch and I’m not Cindy-Lou-Who (first of all, I could never pull off that hairdo). You’re not the villain; I’m not the hero.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Oct 24, 2014 | 2 comments
…yell things like “Heyyyyy Burrito!” to which we would yell “guacamole and cinnamon twist!” get up to swing a couple dance moves, then continue to eat our raisin bran as if nothing had occurred.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Sep 24, 2014 | 2 comments
I have a theory that we don’t really learn much of anything by watching a bunch of characters who espouse the same values, worldviews, and ideas that we already believe.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Aug 24, 2014 | 6 comments
I thought that, to be a grown-up, I would have to know how to do my taxes. But I think growing up is when you listen more than you run your mouth. And it’s when you forgive someone. Again. And again.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Jul 24, 2014 | 1 comment
I ended up spending half the carnival with the oldest girls’ cabin, running the kissing booth. Now, before you google my summer camp and withdraw your children in horror, let me explain.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | May 24, 2014 | 0 comments
Lauren tries to climb over one-and-a-half-foot slab of concrete to higher ground. Even more minimalist version: Lauren attempts to climb one stair.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Apr 24, 2014 | 3 comments
After I managed to swim to the bottom of the pool to retrieve a brick, I lay in a puddle of chlorine and teal tile like a trauma victim.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Mar 24, 2014 | 3 comments
Anyone who has watched Harry Potter knows that the wizard doesn’t choose the wand. The wand chooses the wizard. And this is obviously the same for colleges.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Feb 24, 2014 | 0 comments
Imagine every other story you’ve ever loved. Imagine reading Harry Potter with the certainty that somebody’s going to Avada Kedavra the kid any page now.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Jan 24, 2014 | 3 comments
So you can imagine my confusion when boys neglected to be dazzled by my still un-shaved armpits and my attempts to engage them in witty repartee by repeatedly quoting Muppet Treasure Island.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Dec 24, 2013 | 0 comments
Why shop for Christmas presents when I can scrounge through the basement for spray paint and paper clips at 3 am on Christmas morning to fashion handmade Precious Moments iHomes?!!
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Nov 26, 2013 | 3 comments
I have always had a profound aspiration to be extraordinary, and not just extraordinary in a way that puts me among the greatest people that have ever lived. I kind of want to be the greatest person that ever lived.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Oct 24, 2013 | 3 comments
Joel and I stood in my front yard one afternoon, raking leaves because, as we both knew, mysteries always present themselves to people with crew cuts when they’re either doing yard work or playing tennis.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Sep 24, 2013 | 1 comment
I’ve been to thirty-three weddings and counting.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Aug 24, 2013 | 5 comments
Someday, we’ve got this promise of a glory land, a place where our forever will be golden. But in this life, Eden sank to grief. Leaf subsides to leaf.
by Lauren (Boersma) Harris | Jul 24, 2013 | 4 comments
For years, I have identified myself as a “feminist.” And, for years, I have had to deal with the personal aggression that comes as a side effect of my passion about the subject.