Today was my son’s last day of preschool. Noah sang, clapped, marched across a bridge bedecked with balloons and ate Popsicles, all with his typical fervor. I’m sure there was a trace of melancholy somewhere. Maybe that trace was in my heart, but still. His loving cadre
Read more →The idea of inducing labor has terrorized me since the birth of my son. It’s synonymous with what I still consider my biggest failure—not allowing Noah to be born on his terms. Instead, I tried to schedule him into my life. I wish I could return to
Read more →On Sept. 11, 2001 I lived in Arlington, Va., a few miles from the Pentagon. When terrorists slammed a jetliner into the famed fortress, I was riding the subway to work, temporarily unaware that my city and my country were under attack. At work I huddled with
Read more →Amanda* is dying from breast cancer. In her early 40s with several young children, she recently told her husband that after she’s gone, she’d like him to remarry. Cancer drugs have sustained her life but stolen her hair. She takes them now to prevent her softening bones
Read more →My 4-year-old son Noah has discovered how functional his pants are. He can, for instance, jam Legos into the pockets as he darts out to school in the morning. He can shove even larger things down his pant legs. I noticed Noah’s revelation after a recent trip
Read more →When my first child was born, I was unqualified for the job. If there were a test, I would’ve failed. Knowing my ineptitude, doctors and nurses would’ve snatched Noah and shooed me out of the hospital. A hormonal haze clouded me into thinking I did fail. What
Read more →My son turns 4 years old today. So do I. Noah’s birth was my rebirth. I awakened to the glorious, to the awful. To the sweeping power of a God who saves, redeems, loves. For awhile I mourned the death of my old self. Had life gone
Read more →Last week I attended the Writing for the Soul (WftS) conference in Colorado Springs, Colo. Every year Jerry B. Jenkins and his Christian Writers Guild convene a group of writers, from the very accomplished to beginners. The point is to educate, encourage and empower writers who are
Read more →My Mom would be 70 years old today. That seems old. I can only picture her as young–probably because she died at 46. In the prime of life, with a full head of thick brown waves, sparkling green eyes and a radiance that suggested she might be
Read more →Generation X is sometimes dubbed ‘The Divorce Generation.’ We were children of an era plagued by divorce. A new report on divorce’s impact on faith says Gen X children of divorce “form a kind of broken leading edge, with spiritual stories quite often characterized by loss or
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