2009 was a year that really put things in perspective for my family. While we know there is no guarantee life will not be that hard again in the future, we look back with wonder at the fact that we survived all of the obstacles and pain those twelve months held. It was, for us, a terrible year. Was this past year hard like that for you, too? I'm over at iBelieve this week, offering some ideas for ways we can heal after a particularly difficult year. You can read the rest of this post by . . .
It was December 1, 2001: I was 17 years old and halfway through my senior year of high school. Late that morning, I slowly made my way downstairs to the main floor of our home, soon noticing some newly hung decorations at the bottom of the stairs. They were three wreaths, each decorated with twenty-five small bags of candy. I knew these decorations well—they have somewhat magically appeared on every December 1st of every year in my memory. I shouldn’t have felt so surprised to see them on . . .
Every Thanksgiving, my family gathers around the table and, with wild amounts of delicious food at our fingertips, we go around the table and each share something we are thankful for. It is a tradition I loved as a child and looked down upon as a teenager; I still remember my token response throughout my high school years: “My friends.” I was full of angst and attitude and wanted to make sure my family knew how much I valued my friends. High school Mallory was a real treat. These days, most . . .
Hi friends, This week, I don’t have a ton to say. I submitted an emotional piece a few days ago, which I hope will be published this spring. I’m feeling tired and mostly out of words. However, I’ve committed myself to this space. I want to show up here every week, in some form, even if I’m tired or speechless. I want to be a person who shows up even when I’m not at my best. Tonight, I’m not at my best but I’m here and sometimes that has to be good enough for us. What I cannot do tonight is . . .
I wrote this post several weeks ago but never made it so far as to hit “Publish”—mostly because fear is loud and avoidance is relatively easy. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about all of this, so I'm posting it now. Even if Brock Turner may seems like “old news,” the essence of this piece is, in my opinion, still very relevant. I very much welcome your comments, but please keep them respectful and constructive. As always, I'm so glad you're here. A while ago, I came across this . . .
I am feeling all sorts of weepy this week. It is our first wedding anniversary. We’ve done our introductory lap around the sun as husband and wife. Today, I spent half the morning in the card aisle at the store (and then I left empty-handed, because why pay $5 for someone else’s words when I can write my own for free?) I’d love to come up with all of the most meaningful thoughts to write to my husband but, right now, all I can think of is: Dear Darren, Can you believe it?! Love, . . .