Running into Story

My drive to work is nothing special. It starts with a nondescript road, grey and industrial and mostly quiet except for the semi trucks that sometimes congregate at the stoplight. Only, if I remember to look down when crossing the river, down and to the right, I smile. It’s my recurring phenomenon across the suburbs, ...

When You Miss the Darkness

Is it strange that I miss the darkness that sucker-punched my soul? This was four years ago. I was living overseas, six months split between two continents, saturated in Christian community that was young and fiery and expectant. I was young and fearful and depressed, but this was my chance. This could be my cure. ...

The Unraveling

I am unraveling. The illusion is broken: I can’t always trust myself. Sinking deep into the beats and even the palpitations of my own heart was always my saving grace, my peace and my candle and my anchor. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t had enough time to sift and plunge into the clamoring silence ...

Listen to the Longing

Travel is lovely; travel is lonely. I know loneliness very well … both the loneliness of a crowded room and the loneliness of my own room. I know the loneliness of being the only one and the every one. I know longing too. Many words are associated with these four weeks before Christmas, these four ...

Gratitude & Asia & Colorado

I once lived in Asia. I remember the night we arrived, how we all trooped into the first apartment at midnight, how we took in every bright and dusty and unusual detail. How we had a few names and phone numbers, but we didn’t know anyone, not really, and we didn’t know this city. Three ...

Advent of Restlessness

I have a bit of a crush on Advent. I buy things for Advent and I daydream about Advent and I want to spend as much time with Advent as possible. And every year, I am disappointed. This isn’t because Advent stands me up, however, but because I make Advent stand in the snow, and ...

Choosing the Freefall

Choosing to be brave is choosing the freefall. It is the moment when you sheepishly return to the party you left 20 minutes ago, the one where you hardly knew anyone, the one where you stayed your usual amount of time and then slipped away. When the door closed behind you, though, you realized you ...

Live Coals and Broken Places

When a live coal sits atop a piece of wood, powered by breath and prodded by sticks, the wood eventually becomes a coal too. And with enough time, the heat begins to chip away at the wood. The fire and I, we made a bowl yesterday. A few hours before, I was sitting in my ...