acrylic on canvas
Maybe I was born an overachiever, but I’ve only known striving for first place. I’ve never been content with “good enough.” I’m always working for the best — and then some. This attitude works well for school and a lot of other things. The problem is, it’s not always easy to turn it off, or […]
“Mom, I never want to leave you,” he said. He was four years old. “Aren’t you going to work?” “I’ll only work on Tuesdays so I can be with you all the time.” He’s driving away in a car full of Marines. Her Marine. Her son. She calls out after him, “Don’t forget your jacket. […]
You know the game. You get a list of items to look for in your purse, and the one with the most items wins. It’s an ice breaker played at wedding and baby showers. Women scrounge around in their purses, rooting out long lost items, like so much buried treasure. Contents get dumped as they […]
Every day I offer up my writing, imagining the five loaves and two fish. Far too often I’m breaking up the bread before I lay it in the basket. And all I’m left with is a bunch of crumbs. I’m meting it out — this bit will go here, this bit I can blog. Too […]
They’re a conservative Christian family. Church on Sundays, Bible reading every night. Born again. They’re looking for a church where their teen boys can fit in. But they’ve had a hard time finding a church that would accept them, one that isn’t a gay church, that is. I was talking to my old college roommate. […]
Surely he had anticipated their lives would be in danger. Would he now return to Canaan alone? And what would become of Sarai? Would he ever see her again? Had he completely misunderstood God’s plan?
Cain loved the smell of the earth. His father and mother said it was cursed. “Farming was a lot easier back in the day,” his father would say, with that faraway look in his eyes. He said God had given them the job of working the earth, and Cain enjoyed the challenge of coaxing life […]
I watch the monster who is me pressing the blade into my brother’s flesh until his blood runs hot over my own flesh. I see my brother’s face, the shadow passing over it when he realizes what I’m about to do. I rewind and see him running towards me from across the field. He is just within arm’s reach. I can choose to embrace him, but instead I pull my knife from its sheath.
Hagar had always been carried along by the current of other people’s lives. In Egypt she had been sold as a slave to the highest bidder. Abraham bought her and Sarah took her as her personal servant. They had brought her to Canaan, and then quite unexpectedly, her own body, her womb, had been called into service.
She did not like the idea of her husband being with another woman, especially not her maid, and she was glad that part was over. Was it her imagination, or was Hagar patronizing her?
God did things his way and in his time, and things were not always what they seemed. He could be trusted, but he was not predictable. This much he had learned, or perhaps was still learning. How could he explain this to Sarah? How could he expect her to hope again when he could give her none of the assurances she would expect?