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Browsing Tag: Good Friday

Not Exactly What They Mean by ‘Mic Drop’

The kids are making Easter cards for their grandmothers right now while I clean (and by clean, I mean excavate the house from the inches of dust and dirt and clutter that accumulated while I was avoiding cleaning). Quinlan saw me mopping the floor and asked to help. I, being the good, patient mother that I am, told her that she’d have to help me another time, because I needed to get the chore done quickly (aaaaaand today will mark the day when Quinlan’s love of helping and mastering tasks dies like a spurned grape on the vine of independence. Win one for her future therapist). She grumbled when I told her this, her pout sticking out, her hands dropping the crayons she’d been holding so she could cradle her head in them. “I’m having the worst day ever,” she said, and stared at the construction paper in front of her. I huffed over my mop, trying to scrub out a stain that might have been there since last Easter. “Actually,” I said–and hereby marks the day that Quinlan also lost her trust in faith, in…

Just One of Many (Just One More Time)

Note: I don’t normally repost essays I’ve previously written, but I’ve been thinking about this one a bit lately–or, actually, this topic. See, April holds the anniversary of the days on which both David’s and my father died. And right now, there’s a lot of bad talk in the news–people being hated, the people who are hateful being hated themselves, all that usual stuff that swirls around our world on a daily, weekly basis. And I just find myself withdrawing from it all: I will say that these past couple of weeks I’ve actually liked those cat memes that keep popping up on Facebook more than my friends’ actual status updates. It hurts me to admit that. I’m not someone who wears my faith on my sleeve, partially because I don’t feel like being lumped into any sort of stereotype (I know. How very Peter of me), and mainly because faith is something I stumble through every day, picking my way through the fields (sometimes meadows, sometimes gravel) of belief like a stranger trying to find her way in…

Just One of Many

Quinn broke her elbow yesterday. It’s just a slight fracture.  She was in and out of the urgent care center in an hour, with “pictures” of her arm and a recommendation for an orthopedic pediatrician.  She got pizza (“pepp-ee-roni”) and frozen yogurt (chocolate) for dinner.  She skipped her bath.  She has to wear a splint that goes from her wrist to her upper arm, with a sling to match.  She, surprisingly, doesn’t seem to mind the sling so badly. For me and David, though, well, that’s a different story. It happened while we were downstairs, in the family room, talking.  The girls were in the living room a few steps above us, playing with some toy airplanes.  I’d just made a comment to David about how lucky we are that they play so well together–listen to the stories they make up!– and how just downright awesome it is that we have such happy children.  There was no thump, nor scream, or anything like that.  Just Quinn, appearing at the top of the stairs, clutching her left arm and sobbing.  Big fat tears rolling…