The people I know say they’ll never forget where they were when the first tower fell, then the second. Mom says she was in her room, I was on her bed, and she was changing me. I’d only been around for seven months and already wore a birthmark of the world; 2001 was a year … Continue reading Never Forget It
The “what-are-you-doing-for-college?” question comes my way a lot, and I have trouble packaging an answer. I’ve sort of wandered the web since I graduated, taking free classes like English Comp and Public Speaking and Theology. I worked with Jonathan Rogers over at The Habit for a few weeks, whipping my writing into something more earthy … Continue reading The Conservatory
I listen to a news briefing as I walk Edgewood, warm winds tossing the trees. I hear there are bodies being flung from planes. I don’t remember seeing the little American flag on Rivara’s mailbox before. Old Highway 50 is hot and quiet, and there are black-eyed Susans and zinnias growing around that tin-roofed house … Continue reading Homefront
“Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while,” said Jesus to his disciples, “for many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat” (Mark 6:31). Wyndham Mountain Vista isn’t a desolate place. We pulled in too late to book our favorite condo overlooking the fog that huddles … Continue reading “Come Away and Rest Awhile”
The swingset oak is forty years old, taller than our maple, cedars, even its pin oak siblings. Mr. and Mrs. Adams planted it when our neighborhood was still a field and Mom was still a kid who ran through it. Early last fall, the tree started browning— far too early. By November, it was naked … Continue reading A Good Sign
I’ve called this place Bethany J’s Journal since it’s beginning, but I’ll admit it isn’t my journal— not my real, blue hardback with the exotic fish on the front and squatty cursive inside. Here, I draft, tweak, redraft, edit, polish, and find pretty pictures to match each article. My real journal is messier, and while … Continue reading Introducing “Sunday Sketches”
Not even my parents can remember a blizzard like last week’s— when we shoveled half a foot of snow off the pond just so we could skate, while the wind reddened our faces and froze our hair. More snow covered our work in minutes. The sky cleared on Wednesday, so now it’s sun on ice— … Continue reading Winters Past & Present
Friday, January 8 I fiddled with my ring while mom picked up the phone to talk to Drew, and her face froze: “It’s time?” They induced Leanna tonight, and all I know about that is it will get the baby here tomorrow or the day after. Saturday Evening, January 9 Got kids clambering all over … Continue reading He Came with the Morning
He sold black, ceramic owls. They were eighty dollars apiece and one could’ve fit in my palm (I didn’t try). His booth was tucked between a t-shirt souvenir shop and the street corner where a tan man in a fedora rasped out tunes on wood flutes. Dad and I stopped to have a look, and … Continue reading Eyes to See
May 31 I journaled my way across Texas’s panhandle last June, writing things like this: I’ve noticed the plants here grow together. Only occasionally is a shrub brave enough to weather the prairie alone. And those that do wear brambles to prove their fortitude. My Missouri home is green and humid. The contrast between Southwestern … Continue reading Shrubs and Trees and Living Water
