Motherhood
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The Boundary Lines of My Broken Body
This essay originally appeared on Calla Press Literary Journal. Somewhere between rage-cleaning the kitchen and a ten-minute tidy, I decide it’s time. I reach into
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Will My Husband Still Think I’m Attractive as I Age?
I was twenty and working at a Bloomingdale’s call center when someone handed me a complimentary pair of women’s shapewear. I didn’t know what Spanx
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All My Not-Enoughness
I see a post on Instagram from another Christian writer and it’s so beautiful and wise and creative. Wish I’d thought of it. I’m not
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Seasons of Spiritual Drought
If you walked the path alongside our house from the driveway, you’d find a patch of dried up wildflowers. Continuing around the corner and past
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The Control We Don’t Have (a poem)
I hear myself say it.“Oh, how I wish he’d let goof the control he doesn’t have.”And my heart is pricked.Because I know,that’s a word for
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Heavy with the Weight of You (a poem)
I’ve always been intimidated by poetry. Reading it sometimes makes me feel dumb and writing it? Goodness, I’m not sure I have any skill to
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The Boundary Lines of My Broken Body
This essay originally appeared on Calla Press Literary Journal. Somewhere between rage-cleaning the kitchen and a ten-minute tidy, I decide it’s time. I reach into

Will My Husband Still Think I’m Attractive as I Age?
I was twenty and working at a Bloomingdale’s call center when someone handed me a complimentary pair of women’s shapewear. I didn’t know what Spanx

All My Not-Enoughness
I see a post on Instagram from another Christian writer and it’s so beautiful and wise and creative. Wish I’d thought of it. I’m not

Seasons of Spiritual Drought
If you walked the path alongside our house from the driveway, you’d find a patch of dried up wildflowers. Continuing around the corner and past

The Control We Don’t Have (a poem)
I hear myself say it.“Oh, how I wish he’d let goof the control he doesn’t have.”And my heart is pricked.Because I know,that’s a word for

Heavy with the Weight of You (a poem)
I’ve always been intimidated by poetry. Reading it sometimes makes me feel dumb and writing it? Goodness, I’m not sure I have any skill to