My Mother's Life Was Way Too Heavy

A Lot Of Time You Write Out Of Some Unconscious Place. I Try To Trust What Is Coming And Where It Wants To Take Me.

I Don't Hold To The Idea That God Causes Suffering And Crisis. I Just Know That Those Things Come Along And God Uses Them. We Think Life Should Be A Nice, Clean Ascending Line. But Inevitably Something Wanders Onto The Scene And Creates Havoc With The Nice Way We've Arranged Life To Fall In Place.

The Hardest Thing On Earth Is Choosing What Matters.

So I Taught Sunday School And Brought Dishes To All Manner Of Potlucks And Tried To Adjust The Things I Heard From The Pulpit To My Increasingly Incongruent Faith.

This Is The Autumn Of Wonders, Yet Every Day, Every Single Day, I Go Back To That Burned Afternoon In August When T. Ray Left. I Go Back To That One Moment When I Stood In The Driveway With Small Rocks And Clumps Of Dirt Around My Feet And Looked Back At The Porch. And There They Were. All These Mothers. I Have More Mothers Than Any Eight Girls Off The Street. They Are The Moons Shining Over Me.