The Wide Open   I’m getting more and more familiar with riding on Portland’s bikeways—bustling urban streets, whoop-de-do hilly neighborhoods, gravel-sand-dirt-mud, and smooth-ish, paved “protected” bike paths. I see acute angles and vibrant, pulsing juxtapositions. Life as it is. Picturesque rivers and breathtaking, rushing creeks and heartbreaking encampments. My eyes are filled with the sites … Read more

Walking With a Limp I missed church this past Sunday and so I listened to the message online yesterday. A day late and right on time. The subject matter covered a very question I have had on my mental notepad—something I’ve been meaning to ask my pastor about: wrestling/struggling with God and specifically why God … Read more

Lovely Day     I have a feeling this is going to be a long post but sometimes miracles are time-consuming. I ended my last Facebook post yesterday with: “The only attention I’m seeking is the kind that believes in asking for miracles. So if you’ve got that kind, we’re a great match.” Turns out … Read more

Occam’s Razor   Having someone bear witness to my loss and broken heart is the best comfort. Simple acknowledgment is everything. It’s okay to say his name. I’m guessing that overthinking—not bad intentions—is sometimes the culprit. Bearing witness is less complicated and better than someone bright-siding it or any one of a myriad of grief-fixing … Read more

Fancy Footwork in a Space of Light     I feel like a different person. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a new body. I know I will never be the same. Being alive is hard lately. People often ask me if I’m doing better yet and I’m certain I disappoint them. I place a … Read more

Still   Over and over again, I would run my finger along the strip right above his eyebrows across his forehead. And he would close his eyes. He’d always settle in. He’d become absolutely motionless. As a newborn, as a toddler—a young boy, a teen, a man. Countless times. I ran my fingers through that … Read more

Slay   In our current slang, when people say “You slay,” they mean it as a compliment. That’s not the way I used it on December 24th when I announced on social media that my son Joey was hit by a car and killed. I included Job’s words: “Though he slay me, yet I will … Read more

The Fizz There Is   If I’m ever going to be OK again, my hunch is that I will be—at least in part—because I’m saying out loud that I currently am not. My goal is not to worry anyone. I think people should worry more about people who remain stoic and silent. Still, that is … Read more

I’m trying to accept myself as I am right now. I feel like an extra in The Walking Dead.   Other than when Brooksy wants me to do a puppet show over FaceTime, there is no “push past” in me. At least not my normal push-past. It takes every ounce of whatever steam is left … Read more

My trip to Guatemala less than two weeks after my son’s memorial service was not a sign of strength; it was a sign of weakness. I went because I didn’t want to let anyone down. I didn’t want to let myself down. I told myself people were counting on me, but I was counting on … Read more