A Dirt Path and the Beginning of Hope


When people saw my mother in those years, they remarked how healthy she looked, how strong, how not-sick. “You would never know she has terminal cancer,” they said. Their astonishment rang like praise for the upbeat patient smiling through her pain. I understood their cognitive dissonance. Her tenacity felt larger than life to me, superhuman […]

The Slow Work of Grief


This past week was really hard. It’s been over a year since my mom died but, in the rolling wake of her leaving, I still get blindsided by grief. This time, the grief was physically painful. It found me on my drive home from the grocery store. I was alone and it was quiet and […]

A Letter to My Younger, Pre-New Orleans Love Story Self


Dear Younger Self, As you’re reading this, you’re probably in between two books: I Kissed Dating Goodbye and something on intercessory prayer. We were quite pious back in the day, Love. Your goals are quite simple: finish college, marry a godly man, make lots of babies, and maybe lead a youth ministry someplace in there. […]

Saying Hard Truth


By Michele Morin | Twitter: @MicheleDMorin I had never heard of Huldah the summer that I stood in my growing-up kitchen and hollered into the phone, “You can’t let him come home because he’s crazy!” I don’t recall whether I was heard on that occasion, whether our feet were spared another few days or weeks […]

Ode To My Bedtime Books


Three moves have left each of my nightstand’s sturdy corners nicked; the espresso stain has been so worn down, the blond wood pokes through in scattered slivers. The single drawer—filled with a dodgy assortment of items, as all nightstand drawers should be—sticks sometimes. A curvy yellow lamp sits cheerfully atop it, flanked by a notebook […]