Rewind three years to early July. My sister picked me up before dawn to make a little day trip. A typical sister trip might entail antiquing, finding off the beaten path bargains, or the hunt for a favorite new lunch spot. We were headed to the cemetery. Our father’s battle with brain cancer was in the final stages, and we had been given specific instructions on how the monument at the graveside was to be set. While funeral arrangements may seem like taboo table discussion, over the course of the journey, we had the blessing of time to discuss exactly what he wanted. We pulled into the cemetery in Valera,…

I’m slightly neurotic. I know we are to put our best selves forward, but sometimes my best self looks a lot like trying to salvage some sort of sanity in the midst of a meltdown. Major change is not exactly something I always handle with grace and poise. In this particular episode of change, we were relocating for my husband’s job after being in our home for eight short months. The timing really was perfect, but looking for a house in a booming market proved incredibly stressful, seeking a new teaching job for myself, and scouting the best childcare facility was just a pile of epic decisions all at one…

Crazed is a multiple meaning word. It can refer to someone being wildly out of control or a network of fine cracks on a surface. My grandmother’s plates are my favorite plates to use, and I cherish them. I noticed recently after washing one that it was crazing. Fine cracks spread out across the surface of the plate. Still usable. Held together on the outside by the glaze…but crazed. In the new Mary Poppins film, every second Wednesday of the month things turn upside down for the character, Topsy. Literally. Everything in her home flips upside down for the entirety of the day. Topsy tells her cousin that she can’t…

The Meeting of the Waters is a phenomenon of particular interest to me. For miles, the Hershey-colored waters of the Rio Negro and the Pecan Sandies- colored Amazon River flow side by side before converging. Different water temperatures and composition of materials put the waters at odds. Fingers of waters jut into each other like shifting shadows for miles as each side jockeys for position within the banks. My heart feels much like this of late. Like Peter Pan chasing his shadow. Just when he thinks he’s got it, it darts from one place to another. Shifting shadows. Until he finally gets a stronghold on it. I want my mind…

Shingles. Not something I ever even thought about having in my late thirties. I thought it a culprit that lay dormant in our bodies until later years. I was wrong. I noticed it on Thanksgiving. My side began to itch and burn. I equated it to dry skin with the onset of cooler fall temperatures. A few days later my doctor confirmed it. Shingles. She asked, “Have you been under any stress?”  I scoffed at that word. Stress. My father had just been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. We were walking with him through treatments, researching possible available clinical trials, and striving to set the passing of time to…

Sometimes our hearts need a remodel. Stripped down to the studs by the allowance of the Holy Spirit’s presence to invade the little closets we build inside. You know. The ones we keep closed, hidden from view. It’s our little secret. The incessant worry about what others may think of me is a hidden closet of mine. Despite my efforts to clean it out through prayer and lock the door forever, it remains. Until one beautiful Saturday morning.  Saturdays are somewhat sacred to me. I try to keep an open schedule. It usually entails a few loads of laundry after a slow stream of coffee intake. The grocery run. Straightening…

Nostalgia cloaked me as I entered her home. Black and white photographs lined the entry hall; reminders of life’s happiest times from decades long past. Her soft voice of welcome summoned me to the living room, and I took a seat across from her on the wooden bench neatly placed in front of the organ. The once ivory keys have yellowed with age, much like her hands have wrinkled with days gone by. She was enjoying the simple self-care treasure of a manicure. The manicurist carefully filed her fingernails as she spoke. Our conversation content repeated several times, a reflection of the tangled web of thoughts woven by dementia. But…

Everything was fine until it wasn’t. My body periodically does not behave very well, and despite chiropractic care and analgesics, here I sit… rather here I lay.  Being in this predicament reminds me of going to the rodeo recently. Rodeo in Texas is like Fashion Week in New York. The latest styles in western wear are donned, and for three weeks, cowboys vie for their ticket to the finals in their event. Literal blood, sweat and tears are shed in pursuit of staking claim to the championship round. On the night of the finals, the coliseum was electric. One of the top bull riders prepared to take an eight second ride…

Grief is raw. It has no expiration date. It has no timetable. Sometimes it’s a leaky faucet. A glaze of tears that blur the vision when a particular memory reminisces the mind. At other times, the pipe bursts and tears emerge from the wellspring of your soul in heaves of sorrow for the loss of the person whose embrace you crave. If we could only hear their voice. If we could ask a quick question. If we could only see their smile. If only… I sat in the darkness of my room and hit play. My dad’s voice filled the air via a saved voicemail. The pipe burst. Tears leapt…

Father’s Day. A time of honor. A time of memory making. A time to call the police… I just needed to fetch two items from the grocery store after church. We had a special honorary lunch planned with family.  Rather than hauling my purse, I grabbed my wallet, tucked my phone under my arm, and zipped into the store. I made it out in record time. Happy with my speedy exit, I reached for my phone to message my sister and let her know we were on our way. Where was it?  A sinking feeling washed over me. I knew I’d taken it inside the store with me. I retraced…