Dear Son, You’re One of the Good Guys

Dear Son, You’re One of the Good Guys

An open letter to my oldest on his 15th birthday. You turn fifteen today in the near middle of this wild and crazy year,  and there’s this thing I have been meaning to tell you about who you are. I have let fear keep me from saying it because well, you’re only...
The Grace of Planting in the Dark

The Grace of Planting in the Dark

My husband came back from an early morning trip to the store for ground meat to form into patties and be devoured within minutes by our crew. We had hamburger buns, but no hamburgers. The care and feeding of boys seems like a puzzle these days—a riddle that keeps...
As We Shelter in Place

As We Shelter in Place

If there were an enemy wanting to eliminate our collective good, perhaps he would send a virus that would create worldwide panic, shut down our schools and places of worship, stop us from gathering and joining together. He would expect us to turn on one another...
How to Walk Away, When You’re a Person Who Stays

How to Walk Away, When You’re a Person Who Stays

I wrestle with walking away something fierce. It seems to have always been this way. When I was younger, I think it was from a place of innocence, the notion absurd that anyone would hurt another person intentionally. Holding onto a belief that with enough love anyone...
A Deeply Rooted Home

A Deeply Rooted Home

The trees we planted in the yard have grown and our boys have followed suit. We don’t notice the changes as much overnight, or even season to season, but a cluster of years tells a different story. Like the pencil marks that tracked each summer stay on my Grandma...
Holding the Year Gently

Holding the Year Gently

It is that time, we find ourselves still in the lingering glow of the new year. The threshold has been crossed with wide-eyed wonder and possibility. Promises that this year will be the year echo everywhere. At two weeks in, reality begins to seep into the edges of...
What We Tell Our Boys

What We Tell Our Boys

As I sit here, my boys are heavy on my mind. Our girls, our boys, all of our children hold weight in my thoughts. By all accounts the five sons we are raising fall under privileged white boy status. We are not wealthy by any means, but that is not the privilege I am...
The Measure of a Good Summer + a free gift

The Measure of a Good Summer + a free gift

 Summer is over. It has been for awhile according to my boys. If you entered a craft store at some point, you were being sold its ending in July, when the foam pumpkins dared to take up position on the shelves. Inevitably once the school bell rings on that first day,...
The Place Our Boys Need Us to Meet Them

The Place Our Boys Need Us to Meet Them

It’s evening, we are all gathered around the table, in between pickups and drop-offs, homework and practice, signing forms and organizing schedules, we have this precious time together.  Looking in, it would seem anything but — we are loud, a mouth is open while...