{I Lost the Month of May: A poem} by Melody Harrison Hanson

I lost the month of May somewhere between watching my mother suffer extreme pain and mental confusion. I felt her pass by heavily; Time, slowed to a crawl as I was watching. And now, the month of May is gone. Time lost cannot be retrieved. I know this as my friend’s cancer roars in wildly. This third…

{The Dilemma of Being unHuman—And Becoming Whole} a poem

1. I want to radiate Light in a worn-out world. I want to face others with joy and eagerness. Glad to share life with one another. Life feels less weighty and onerous, when we are vulnerable with One Another. We all need community.  I long for it, then I open my mouth. I always seem to be…

{The Black Dog is Chasing Me}

I struggle with periodic depression.  I’ve written a lot about it here on the blog.  See above link for more.  This, this is today. I feel myself withdrawing.  I am slowly closing in on myself, retreating … Avoiding the very thing that heals, I do the thing that I most hate:  run. I cannot stop….

Stopping Time (a poem about friendship)

With some friends, you take down the words, moments are scribbled onto your heart. For their life is a book of wisdom. Leaning forward, keening for a moment of clarity and goodness, even as if you are sitting together in a holy place. Sacred space is created in the meeting of spirits, souls mystically blended, time…

What’s a Woman of Leisure? (Not that you asked)

“I just want to be happy.” As I spoke those words to my father on the telephone, I meant them.  I could not remember the last time I felt genuine joy.  I was coming off of three pregnancies in rapid succession and being a person that worked 60+ hour weeks in a rewarding but stressful…

It’s Lonely Here on the Wagon

So I quit drinking a while ago. It was the right decision, for me. I am addicted. I am an alcoholic. I never expected it to be easy; or for life to remain static. As I see it, I am more present; I am more awake than I have been in years. Don’t get me…

Suicide: A Last Goodbye

Suicide, for most inconceivable. A gruesome choice. A last resort. It’s not a cry for help. By then, it is too late. This is dedicated to my friend and colleague, Dave Foster who took his life last Tuesday, at 4:00 am. I worked with him for several years at InterVarsity. I loved & admired him….