The Plates
I’ll be packing up my plates soon, wrapping them well and putting them in storage for the next few years. There’s nothing flashy about them. They are earth toned, with leaves on the rim. I think I was nineteen when I bought them for a dollar each at Walmart. But I’m a little teary thinking about setting them deep in a box and not using them again for a while. These plates were my first step towards independence, and now they’re chipped and etched with memories. They held the first meal Mike and I had together as newlyweds in our own home. I can still see my mom on my couch, balancing Thanksgiving turkey and potatoes on one of those plates, laughing a joy blessing over her grandchildren. They have been part of every birthday, every holiday, every quiet meal as...
Read MoreGrowing Smaller
“I realized I probably could have been famous.” My friend Julie sits across from me at a coffee house table. There isn’t a hint of bitterness, pride, or irony in her gentle voice. She’s right. She really could have been. I’ve known this woman for more than ten years, and every time I’ve seen her on stage, I have been mesmerized. Her voice is one of the most beautiful I’ve heard, and her stage presence is as graceful as it is vibrant. She is gorgeous, well-spoken, and about as talented as they come. The total package. Yes, she could have been widely known and celebrated, but she’s not. She doesn’t want to be. Because she has found her true calling – teaching preschool. Julie talks about music, and she smiles. Then she talks about the kids at work, and the smile...
Read MoreWantok
I have a few really close friends, women who know my heart and let me see theirs. These are the kind of friends who are open to the raw truth even when it isn’t pretty, and they are comfortable with tears, silliness, and even silence. My closest girl friend is my sister. A lifetime of shared memories allows us to understand each other without explanation. There’s a term in Tok Pisin, the national language of Papua New Guinea, for this kind of relationship. Wantok. One who speaks my language. These women are part of my “tribe”. We make sense to each other, heart and soul, no matter our backgrounds or nationalities. It’s not that we never have miscommunications; it’s just that there’s a level of intimacy there that is simple and unafraid. Friends like this...
Read MoreThe Lasts
I have a lump in my throat. A big ol’ fat lump. The kind that makes it hard to breathe, makes it hard to say what I need to say. Because what I need to say is the beginnings of goodbye. We still have seven months before our travel weary bodies land on the other side of the Pacific, but now, over the next couple of months, this is the season of lasts. The last graduation parties for students we’ve known since they were little kids. The last cook out with the high school leaders we’ve invested so much in, and who have invested so much in us. The last baccalaureate service, where Mike will speak and I will cry. The last crop of new sixth graders. Only we won’t be here to watch them bloom. It all sits like a beautiful, burning weight on my chest. A few...
Read MoreThirteen Years
Thirteen years ago, I was so pregnant I could barely breathe. My toes had disappeared beneath my belly months before, and I couldn’t even bend over to put shoes on my own swollen feet. I was done. Those last few days before I could hold my baby in my arms moved like molasses. And then she was there, tiny and helpless, and everyone told me to soak in the moments. That I would blink and she would be grown. When the nights are long and sleepless and just living feels like a battle for sanity, time seems to pause. I wasn’t sure she would ever be anything but little. Today she sat down beside me, shoulder to shoulder, her legs stretching out beyond mine. My little girl, undeniably a woman-child. For a moment I could almost feel the rush of time, like wind in my...
Read MoreWhat I Need
I am needy. There. I said it. This is a label that has followed me most of my life. It has haunted the edges of every relationship I’ve known since someone first told me this in my early teen years. It’s the reason I have sometimes held back in my friendships, afraid of becoming too much to handle. And this week I got called on this fear. Three times. By three different heart sisters. Sometimes God has to work a little harder to get my attention. I’ve told my story in front of a lot of people over the years, stood behind a microphone sharing intimate and painful details of my life with complete strangers. But when it comes to being soul bare with people I really love, that’s when I get scared. Caregiving, listening, praying for others – these are comfortable...
Read MoreIn the Quiet
I love flowers. I love the way they smell, the way they bloom – the silent unfurling of fragrance and color. Some of the best things in life happen slowly, quietly, with little fanfare. Like the way I fell in love with my husband over months of phone calls, long drives, and twilight walks. There was a gentle revealing of deeper layers, a gradual intertwining of hearts, until one day I realized I never wanted to say goodbye. And years later, the growth of new life inside me. Little bodies being knit together in the quiet dark. Secret forming of souls and personalities, beautiful girls who will grow to be women full of purpose and passion. The other day while we were running errands, my preschooler asked from the back seat, “Mom, what did Jesus do with my sins?”...
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