Stumbling Towards Perfect

"Have you met Hannah yet?" the woman across the table asked. We were sitting in an overcrowded ballroom, eating lunch during the Proverbs 31 Ministries SheSpeaks conference. There were over 750 Christian women at this conference. I had met hundreds of incredible women throughout the past three days, like I could remember the names of each and every one. "Oh, if you met her, you'd remember her," the woman explained. "There's just something about Hannah." As if on cue, the most beautiful example of strength approached our table and asked if she could join us. This was Hannah.  A tall, slender woman with chocolate skin, hair past her waist, and a smile that lit up the room. I immediately recognized her from the night before, when here, in this very ballroom, diners were transformed to worshippers, singing songs and praising Jesus. It was a Christian conference, after all. But I grew up in a reserved church. We bowed our heads in silent r

I was speaking with a group of people last night about Avery and how I felt called to tell her story. Hers is one of faith and belief and love and God. I've heard a thousand times and more that I should write a book , as if it were as easy as jotting down a list of things to pick up in town. I cannot explain how scary that idea is. Not to write the words; the words are the easy part. It's having to make my heart  go back there again. Not a day goes by when I don't get hit . A song. A sun. A smell. A smile. And I must stop myself from doubling over and crying out, oh, Avery! I just want you back! I just want to hold you! See you one more time! The hurt is so incredibly raw . Caustic. I remember how bad my throat hurt from squeezing together my pain, holding it back from erupting in all the inappropriate places; so many inappropriate places. At the checkout lane. In front of a client. In line at the DMV. Sitting stoic in the church pew. At a meeting discussing building

Since my Facebook feed has been blowing up with brand new precious bundles of joy, I thought it'd be a good time to revisit a previous post from back in the day. Plus, it reminds me that I used to write with humor. ENJOY! You Don't Need Sleep: YOU HAVE A BABY!

Mom? When I was a baby, I couldn't drink out of this cup. When I was a baby, I had to drink out of a bottle. Yep. When I was a baby, Avery was my sister, but then I got bigger and Avery just died. Yes. Yes, she did, Buddy. Mom ? Yeah? I wish Avery would come back and play with me a second.  Me, too, Buddy. You guys always had a lot of fun when you played together. Mom ? Yeah? I'm saving my money all up so I can buy a swing set and then Avery will come home and play with me.  

There were kids who spent their summers vacationing,  as in, left their perfectly good homes to swim in oceans adjacent to rented seaside cottages or walked for days amongst Disney characters and acrobatic dolphins. They rode bikes in Nantucket and camped in Yellowstone Park. They boarded airplanes and handed passports to officials in Spain and Paris and, for one lucky kid in the fourth grade, Brazil.  Me? I spent the summer at my Grandparents' Farm. They lived on the edge of town. We saw them every Sunday. And holidays. This was the exact opposite of vacationing. My mother would wake us at some ungodly hour and we'd drag our tired bodies to the car. I hated it. It was too early. It was too boring. It was completely unfair that I had to help scrape manure off a barn floor when kids my age were being handed twenty dollar bills by their fathers to go get ice cream down by some wharf.  We'd drive to Grandma's house where she'd be frying up eggs in a skillet, making toa

Avery's school offered the online purchase of yearbooks that included two pages you could personalize for your child. Last year I included all sorts of pictures of things she had done throughout the school year: dressed up as Abraham Lincoln for a history speech; with her swim cap on, waiting for her event; cozied up next to friends at a sleepover. In last year's yearbook, amongst the photos, I also included this: I can't say why, exactly. I just knew in my heart of hearts that she was on the cusp of something great. She was amazing and I was seeing her with new eyes: her beauty, her patience, her compassion, her zest for life, her energy, her love for God. I just knew her greatness was just beginning. Now it's time to order this year's 2012-2013 yearbook. She was in the 5th grade. I had envisioned including photos of her with her trombone at the band concert; dressed up for the school musical; sporting uniforms for the volleyball and basketball team; racin