Ode to a Bygone Era
Growing up, we didn’t have a lot of extra money for vacations, so we would visit state parks, which were free. Our favorite was Lake Barkley in Cadiz, Kentucky. About four times a year we would rent a cabin for
I Am Not Afraid
At the beginning of Covid, people didn’t know what to do with their eyes. We would pass each other in the greenhouse or grocery store (six feet apart, of course), and we would look away as if eye contact alone
How Do We Help Our Children Thrive During Covid?
On the eve of my thirty-fourth birthday, I lay on my daughter’s twin mattress in the living room, surrounded by my three daughters, my best friend, and the little girl she is fostering, and marveled at this world that is
When Dreams Don’t Make Sense
A white-haired man walked into the coffee shop carrying a guitar case. A pretty woman in leather mule heels came in behind him. I couldn’t tell if she was his daughter or his wife. Unzipping the case, the musician exchanged
Finding Treasure in the Depths of Parenting
My husband took a picture of me and our girls last night as we ate S’mores on a bench down by the creek. Afterward, I looked at it, then I looked at it again. Their long hair and legs, their
The Day I Lost My Daughter
Two months ago, I lost my toddler-age daughter. Even now, sitting outside and staring out over the field where she disappeared, it’s difficult for me to process. It’s like I know if I begin peeling back layers, the emotion of that
Catching the Wind
"God provides the wind, Man must raise the sail." St. Augustine I rebel against instructions of every type, so I was quite proud of myself for reading the pamphlet long enough to put my daughter’s butterfly kite together. It was close to
“That’s My Daughter” – Knowing Our Identity Lies In Love
"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." - 1 Corinthians 13:13 It takes a lot to offend me, but it doesn’t take a lot to make me defensive of the ones I
How Many Petersheims Does it Take to Launch a Novel?
Five, to be exact. I became an author soon after I became a mother, and one of my goals was to make my writing part of my family’s life. This is why I write at the kitchen table instead of in
How the Light Gets In
Two weeks have passed, so I can neither remember what my eldest daughter had been fussing about, nor why my response had been to stomp back the hallway and slam the washer door. When her behavior did not change, I told