The first day of spring was the color of dust and stone this year. That morning, I backed our minivan out of the garage under a continuous cloud stretched across the sky, a barrier between us and the warmth of the sun. The skin around my eyes was puffy and pressed against the plastic rims … Continue reading Lament on the First Day of Spring
When I was a teenager living in the Midwest, I ate dried squid in the winter. My mom would roast the ojinguh in our fireplace while cups of Swiss Miss hot cocoa grew cold waiting on a coffee table close by. Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus sat on our mantel above the fireplace where she … Continue reading My Mom’s Love Letter: Ojinguh over Fire
I have these memories of my mom making hand motions while singing San Toki, Toki Ya when I was sad or right before I went to sleep as a little girl. She would hold one arm up to symbolize a horizontal path and then prop her other hand behind it with her first two fingers peeking … Continue reading God Sings Over Me in My Mother’s Language
She lifted her hands to show me how small I was at birth. Her eyes bulged and she declared again, as if it was the first time she’d ever told me, “You almost didn’t make it! Did you know, you didn’t even cry?” There are those stories parents tell and retell, and by the time … Continue reading There is a Burning Bush Inside of Me
“Quiz me on this rock,” he said, holding up a bone-colored, jagged- edge stone. I could almost see his words of response at the edge of his lips, ready. My nine-year old has always been excited about geology. Any mention from me is all it takes to open the floodgates of his excitement and stored … Continue reading From Hidden to Risen
