New: When God Seems Silent

 1.  I have not lost hope though I have lost the ability to hear God. Whether God is silent, which I doubt, or whether the pain throbs too loudly in my heart’s chamber to hear, I don’t know. What my family is experiencing is not suffering. Life is hard and this distinction is important to…

{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…

{rough thoughts on love and mortality in the middle years}

I have no business writing when I need to be packing, preparing, paying bills, picking up prescriptions, cleaning house, and washing laundry, readying myself and the family for me to leave town.  These are very drafty thoughts on aging parents, ailing friends, launching teenagers, and being human.     Love and Mortality in the Middle Years Our…

Organizing and Rearranging

Hi, After having this blog for six and half years, I’m finally reorganizing. WordPress sends their congratulations.  I take the time to go back and look and my first post was 2008, October.  If that’s true then I’ve been sober six and a half years.  Hooray! Today I accidentally sent an empty page to you. Sorry for…

{be Light} a poem

be Light. God spoke and said: be Light. and whether we wanted it, when we are trying the least to be we are Light. from inside us comes creative acts, audaciously arranging the Light, into words that move stone mountains, dances that soar, minds transformed, images breaking hearts open crushing the death within, chords shifting…

A Mother’s Lament {You cannot stop this train. Save yourself.}

These words have leaked out of me, like tears trickling down the crevices of my heart.  It’s been an all-consuming few weeks. I owe friends updates, but it feels as if there’s no space for conversation when I’m taking in heaving breaths of air just to survive and dodging sorrow’s persistent arrows. At the same time.  Time is in such…

The Stones I Carry and a Band of Saintly Women

“With or without our permission, with or without our understanding, eventually suffering comes. Then the only question is how to endure it, how to accept it, how to cope with it, how to turn it from dross to gleam.”   Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year A saint (noun) is a virtuous person, particularly good or holy,…

Living a Life Worthy of Writing. It’s Complicated

It is Virginia Woolf who is credited with the notion that for most of history anonymous was a woman. I thought of that yesterday when a friend (who is more like a mentor) was intently praising me on my writing and expressed that I should continue. Then she said, “Perhaps you should write under a…

Free To Love One Another or Afraid to be Free?

“if you loved me you’d let me die…” I went with a reluctant, heavy expectation to the Maundy Thursday service. My child’s words ringing in my ears.  My need was great. It hit me, sitting there.  I was in the middle of the Community of God, but felt utterly alone.  And it was all my fault. For I have…

My Crazy Slow Surrender to Life’s Beauty

Life is worn and tearing, and this makes me profanely angry. I hear a baby cry in the distance, just a simple need for succor and in an instant, I’m filled with Memory—Grief for What’s Lost. For when it was my breast, feeding the cry, when mine were young, I did not understand The Wonder. …