Kara’s Collection: Smooching Pastor’s Kid

Kara’s Collection: Smooching Pastor’s Kid

from an article originally posted August 22, 2014…  

Oh, my soul, this place, this place has been so heavy, so hard, so riddled with bad news. I NEED to tell you something funny. Please humor me. As you can surmise, my kids are pastor’s kids. Let the stereotypes begin. I once lived in the rigid pew lifestyle where my kids were made to perform great acts of silence for the duration of the service. I felt it was a reflection on me, my parenting, my togetherness. Yuck. There were good moments, love moments, but I lived in the stereotype of my idea of how one should “behave” in church. Especially a pastor’s kid. Yuck.

Kara’s Collection: When the Doctor Calls...

Kara’s Collection: When the Doctor Calls...

from an article originally posted August 21, 2014…

When the doctor calls and humbly says he decided to change his mind. When the offer he gives you feels impossible. When he offers you the hard you are already experiencing and wants to add more impossible—he wants to return you to bald, desperate, awful—you simply weep.

How to Support Someone Fighting Breast Cancer

How to Support Someone Fighting Breast Cancer

October is breast cancer awareness month, but most of us don’t need to be reminded to be aware of the disease. We already are aware. We know a friend or family member who’s currently fighting it or has fought it in the past. We recognize that breast cancer is hard and heartbreaking, and that it doesn’t discriminate in age. But what we don’t often talk about, is how can we support our friend or loved one who is fighting breast cancer?

Kara’s Collection: Dear Cancer

Kara’s Collection: Dear Cancer

from an article originally posted August 19, 2014…

Dear Cancer,

There are a few things I’d like to say to you this morning. A lot of what I want to say is salty and ugly, but I will do my best to use the nice words and not the ones that often get dropped too easily around my house. Cancer, you are and always have been an unwelcome guest in the home of me. But I thought we could work it out, I thought we could fight on Tuesday, you would see I kept house poorly and you would leave. We planned on that. We worked on that. I fought to not hate you as you took unwelcome residence in my body.

While She Lay Dying

While She Lay Dying

Guest Post by Sharon Morginsky

Even though my mom’s eyes were closed most of the time as she lay dying, she knew which of her children were sitting beside her. She rubbed my hand while we sat like she had my whole life. My hand, which is beginning to wrinkle and look like hers and my grandmother's and my great-grandmother's. It was her gentle way of mothering me right up to the very end. The simple act of rubbing the baby in my own belly in this 9th month has made me think of her rubbing my hand, undoing me with grief. I pictured her rubbing her belly when she was pregnant with me and then rubbing my hands at the end. Mothering before I came into this world and mothering as she left.