Why I Write Amish Fiction
I drank in the images of the Amish community, as if I were a thirsty explorer having stumbled upon an oasis: the greenhouse redolent with blooms; the sturdy grandmother in the beige kerchief watching us Englischer customers with a mixture
Stepping Into The Wind
And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” And
Hold Me
My daughter treated my husband like a stranger for four days after he returned from the hospital. It was a blessing in disguise, however, because we were concerned how he would be able to recover from brain surgery with a toddler
Until We Feel The Warmth Again
My husband comes outside as I’m trying to put my fitful heart into words. He munches on a piece of dark chocolate, his work boots in hand. “That’s funny." He smiles. "It’s 41 degrees, and you’re sitting out here with a
The Velveteen Mama ~ The Complicated Gift of Becoming Real
Over these past three years since my daughter’s birth, I have been in the process of becoming real. Like Velveteen Mama real. I am sure you know the premise of The Velveteen Rabbit, either from having read the story yourself or from
The Compost Jar of The Mind
I was sitting in a patch of sunlight warming the kitchen table—pumping milk, listening to classical music on Pandora, and reading an article about being a kind mama. Garbanzo beans were cooking on the stove that I was later going
Time For This
A bald eagle screeched in the distance. A derelict silo broke up the horizon’s striated hues of blue, purple, and pink. My boots sunk into the melted slush covering the dirt road. My four-month-old nestled against me, bundled between my
Listening For The Lullaby
The first time I heard the lullaby, I was getting ice from the dispenser in the nurse’s lounge. I stared up at the white, drop-down ceiling, wondering if two days of sleep-deprivation was messing with my head. The next time I
Valley of Dry Bones
We sat across from each other—our sick four-month-old in my lap, our sick toddler having a meltdown in the living room, a delicious meal before us that I had not prepared. My shorn husband looked so unlike the fierce protector
A New Foundation
I clean blood from behind my husband’s ears with our daughters’ tearless shampoo. Muddy shoes on the front porch, his truck parked where he left it after planting apple trees, putting his t-shirts away and then wearing one just so