Palms, Postures, and Parting Ways

I have held many things in my hands, and have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess. – Martin Luther

A couple of years ago at an If:Local at our then-new church, Shelley Giglio taught me something new via livestream: open your hands during prayer. Palms up. Be expectant in your time with God; be receptive. Believe the promises.

It felt unnatural at first; childlike and vulnerable. But then I saw how a posture could change the way I entered that time, and it became part of me.

Continue reading

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Are we going to be okay?

Is everyone really as angry as they seem right now?

Maybe so.

If we’re being honest…I’m not. I’m defensive, I’m tired, and I’m hurt. That’s where this election season and all it brought with it has left me. I think sometimes that looks like anger. Continue reading

We play the hand we’re dealt.

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I’m 18 and you are 19. We are in our sparsely furnished apartment and we have run out of money for the week. I’m enormous with a child who doesn’t appear to sleep in the womb and has taken a liking to my ribs. You are wiry and fidgety with wild hair and the wild eyes of someone trying to figure out how to be still with someone you love when you don’t know how to be still at all. We are a sight to behold. Continue reading

Some Mamas Have to Worry.

 

One chilly evening last fall, we were visiting my grandmother. She has a church directly across from her home. Baylor had some sort of app on his phone, sort of like geocaching meets World of Warcraft type of thing. He jumped up from the couch and told me that there was something to find over at the church- could he go? I looked outside. It was dusk. It was drizzling. I looked at Baylor, in his jeans and black hoodie; such a stark contrast from his nearly glowing white skin. I told him he could go. He ran outside, threw his hood over his head, and wandered around the closed church.

I wasn’t worried.

But I know some mamas have to worry. Continue reading

My baby, my son,

he looked at me today.

Out of nowhere,

locked eyes, told me,

“I’m not afraid.”

Good, baby, good.

Go forth; yes, be brave,

’cause your mama can’t think

of one good thing

fear ever gave.