The Late Arrival

School starts this week. I'm anxious, and at the same, relieved because my daughter's chosen to do a many of her classes virtually. Still, my mind chatters that all it takes is one hour, one moment, one exposure to start a potentially deadly domino fall. There's so much, mom. Like, I don't understand why we need to be face-to-face. Like, why are they forcing this to happen? I went off on a well-informed, frustrated tangent...in my head. She didn't need to hear that, and frankly I didn't need to hear myself say it. So I dug deep into what I believed and what I knew and what I felt. You know what? I'm not gonna lie: I am anxious. Thing is, I honestly believe that God is gonna do something big this school year. Like, beyond what you can even imagine. Seriously . She looked at me like I had grown a third head. No seriously. This school year, this whole situation -- everything is like we're walking into pitch black darkness. We don't know what's in fr...

When I came back from our family trip to Pierce City, Missouri a few years ago, my dear friend wanted to know all the details. We met for lunch and I told her that, yes, my daughter, my husband and I stood at the graveside of my third-great grandmother who was born in 1795. That we even took pi ctures of the expansive greenspace where my second great-grandfather’s house once stood before he and his step-son had a firefight with an angry mob who torched the place with them in it. It’s quiet, pastoral and unassuming. That we stood on the land my ancestors used to own before they were driven from it. And that, yes, we held vigil with a small group from the community on the very ground where an ancestor was lynched that night in 1901. You should really write a book about this , she nudged. Maybe if I can sort it all out in my head. It’s just a lot.   I mean, I wished I had a picture taken of my daughter and I by our maternal ancestor’s grave. I can still feel the rugged rock and rough...