Fragments on Memory-Ours and God’s (or “God Sees. God Hears.”)

I've needed so much hope, and honestly as someone who has struggled with depression for years and then the health issues of the past few months, it's been quite hard. Some of my biggest fears are being forgotten or not believed, of having no voice or significance, of being disposable. That may be rather self-absorbed, but God knows we are dust, and His promises assure us of His faithfulness. The past few months, years really, but especially the past few months have been filled with reminders of Who He Is, that He is the only God, His name is Jealous, and there is no other Savior. He will fight for me (though not always in the way I want). It is as if anything that is not Him, even good things, is being stripped away.

When You Haven’t Been Writing Much Lately

A few weeks before Christmas, I thanked a friend for posting a blog interview featuring a writer who was also a busy wife and mother. (You can actually access the article here.) The article was truly encouraging, and my friend’s response was meant to be: he asked if I would be interested in being interviewed myself. There was one problem: me. Once more, I was going to have to confess to someone far more successful that I hadn’t been writing lately and therefore wouldn’t be much of an inspiration. As I clicked send, I hoped my brevity wouldn’t reveal the grumpiness and defeat the offer had unwittingly triggered.

A Mad Tea Party (Part One)

One of my favorite stories has become Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I first met Alice a few summers ago when I learned I would be reading Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There with my eighth graders. Naturally, I thought Alice and I might need to become better acquainted. Sixth months later, I adapted both novels for the stage (with a greater emphasis on Wonderland and a few beloved scenes and characters from Looking-Glass), using Martin Gardner’s annotated version.

When God Makes You Small: The Beauty of Being Insignificant (Introduction)

As with auditions for a play, we don't always get the part in life we think we want. Flute begged his director to not make him play a woman, while Bottom desired to play all the parts at once. Jo March wanted to be a boy. Lucy Pevensie wanted to be her older, beautiful sister Susan. Mark Studdock craved inclusion in the inner circles of his work, and his wife Jane despised any ideas of roles in their marriage. Moses begged God to send someone else, and then that someone else, Aaron, turned around years later and asked Moses why he had to be the one in charge. Peter asked Jesus what he planned to do with John. James and John wanted to have the right-hand position in God's kingdom.

I want to be Gandalf.

“Then You Are Somebody, Sir?”

My Shakespeare professor chanted the first lines of Beowulf in Old English to help us better understand the rhythm of Anglo-Saxon poetry. While I’d read the poem multiple times, I didn’t exactly have the first line memorized, but it didn’t matter. There was magic in these words I couldn’t understand and wouldn’t have recognized if you’d placed them before me. But the archaic words hailed something otherworldly, and my soul longed for it, though I couldn’t tell you what it was.