My latest post at Red Tent Living is up! You can find it here. The Unfiltered World The morning after the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, I went downstairs to find the kitchen table strangely empty. I’d grown used to seeing the Chicago Tribune scattered by section across the table, my parents taking turns picking through each segment. On this day in April, however, the typically bulky newspaper was quite lean. Curious, I asked my Mom what had happened to the rest of the newspaper. Though she . . .
I nearly skipped down the big steps leading to the front of the venue. I was laughing and making jokes with a friend, giddy with excitement that this day—the wedding day of my dear friends—was finally here. A few members of the wedding party sat in the seats that would soon be taken by friends and family. I continued laughing lightheartedly, about to greet the small group with a hearty hello before suddenly noticing their tears and somber tone. Immediately, I felt snapped back to the reality of . . .
You guys, I'm struggling this week. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about having had a long weekend, but it really throws me off. I don't know what day it is, I'm all behind on work, and somehow I'm more tired now than I am after a regular weekend (Why?!). I think there's something about this time of year that makes me feel extra scattered. Even though no one in my little family is operating on a school year calendar, I can feel all of the transition happening around me. Kids are . . .
Fourth-grade Mallory cracks me up, you guys. I love her and I think she’s precious but, also, just so nerdy. I can still see the layout of Mrs. Hermann’s fourth grade classroom. During this school year, I did a book report on Nevada, was sent to the principal’s office (for the first and last time, mind you), and began discovering that thing about the grass looking greener on the other side. I had straight blonde hair, my face was peppered with freckles, and, oh my goodness, I [apparently] . . .
We are breaking from our regularly scheduled blog programming because TODAY is Darren’s birthday! My Darren—my husband, my teammate, my closest friend. I often tell him that he’s my “best part’a life”—and I really, really mean it. I can’t believe I get to be partnered up with him on this wild journey. Leading up to our wedding in August of 2015, I wrestled with my vows to Darren. I could write them, of course, but speaking them to him, with nearly 200 friends and family bearing witness, . . .
“You,” my Mom looks at me with a blend of certainty and empathy in her face, “are so much like me.” “Moooom,” I whine as I roll my eyes, “I knooooow.” I couldn’t possibly have kept track of how many times I’ve heard my Mom tell me this in my 30+ years. Typically, it wasn’t a welcomed comment on my end, probably because my Mom usually tells me about our similarities when I’m being stubborn; in the depths of my stubbornness is not the time for me to ponder generational resemblances, . . .