A book open with a pen on top. I write to untangle the mess of tasks in my head. Because everyone else seems to know what they’re doing, but I can’t figure it out unless I’ve written it down in at least 3 places and checked it twice. I write because I’m no good at decorating my house, or creating quilts, or starting a beehive And I definitely don’t want to be on the PTA again. I write because when I wake up I can have a dialogue with real people going through my head Or one

From atop the mountain of one accomplishment, I gaze out at the next summit and hear the poet, Mary Oliver ask, “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” and I pause, not knowing exactly which way to start. There are so many paths. On each of those paths are branches and cliffs and I know that there are only so many paths I can follow. Up until now, the path has been laid out for me by necessity and desire. These are things that I wanted to do for cer

It’s not my fault you turned out the way you did: Strong, happy, Confident, kind. It’s not my fault you turned out the way you did: Scared, defiant, Angry, sad. It’s not my fault you got first place, or last, Took a chance, or didn’t, Saved a place or couldn’t. It’s not my fault they didn’t see your goodness, Or helped when they should have. It’s not my fault you chose a Twinkie when you should have had a salad, Or a salad when you should have had a twinkie. Though it may be

A boy flies a kite in a field. A windy park, some extra time to kill, two people: a boy and his mom. The mom knows one kite will be difficult; the other--not so much. She wants to give her son the easy choice, but he won’t have it. He wants the challenge. She watches as he throws the kite up in the air and dashes away, the kite crashing to the ground again and again. She wants to make it better, easier, to take away the challenge, especially when he becomes frustrated and it

I have a vision in mind of where life will lead. I plan it out in neatly printed rows next to hopeful checkboxes: call the doctor, take back that shirt, say no to that activity (why does saying no feel like so much more effort than saying yes?). I know what a typical Tuesday should look like because I scheduled it, prepared for it, and prayed about it. But here it is, another Tuesday that typically does not look like the one I planned. I feel burdened by the weight of bless

Revision is a part of the writing process where you decide what you want to keep, what you want to take out and what you need to further clarify. I’m a college writing instructor and one of the things I’ve been surprised at the most is my student’s reluctance to revise their papers. This is far more than laziness or lack of instruction. They genuinely seem terrified to do things like move a sentence or change a word or two. Once I asked my class a technical question about