"Wrestling with God" book with Barbara Falconer Newhall

Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith

"Any seeker of any faith will be blessed to read the words of this fine author and observer."

Publishers Weekly, starred review

Click to learn more about "Wrestling with God"

No to Bride Barbie — Yes to a Real-Life Wedding

At age 7, Christina preferred a tug of war to playing with her Bride Barbie. Photo by Barbara Newhall

Christina left her Bride Barbie at home to join a tug of war. Photo by Barbara Newhall

MY DAUGHTER CHRISTINA will be marrying in May. She’s a grown-up woman now, making plans to spend her days with a truly good man. People who knew Christina as a little kid might be surprised to hear that there will be an actual wedding, complete with the traditional white wedding gown, champagne, music, flowers, moonlight and a multi-tiered wedding cake.

As a girl Christina wasn’t much for dressing up — neither herself nor her Barbie Doll. Girly stuff bored my daughter. She preferred playing Nintendo with her big brother and his guy friends. Nonetheless, when May rolls around Christina will be letting loose with her inner romantic: friends, family and groom will be treated to a sweet, old-fashioned wedding and a — beautiful — bride.

Some things  haven’t changed, however. Christina still likes computer games. And so does her husband-to-be.

Here’s a story I once wrote about the seven-year-old Christina and [Read more…]


Something Old — Ten Ideas, Old and New, From a Mother of the Bride

Something old -- the cream colored pumps I wore for my 1977 wedding were too long and too narrow for Christina's foot. Photo by Barbara Newhall

Something old — the cream colored pumps I wore for my 1977 wedding were too long and too narrow for Christina’s foot. Photo by Barbara Newhall

Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue. — Old English Rhyme

By Barbara Falconer Newhall

I thought my 40-year-old shoes would make a perfect “something old” for Christina’s wedding trousseau in May. So did Christina. My wedding shoes couldn’t be more vintage but, given their boxy shape, my daughter and I thought they could easily pass for stylish in 2017.

Too bad that the shoes were too narrow for Christina’s feet. And my lacy 1977 wedding dress was too small.

As the mother of the bride, with lots of years to my credit (my past [Read more…]


The Bride Said Yes to the Dress . . . The Mother-of-the-Bride Diaries Begin

A young bride celebrates choosing a wedding dress with a "I said yes to the dress" sign.. Photo by Barbara Newhall

Christina celebrated picking out her wedding dress with the salon’s “I said yes to the dress” sign. Photo by Barbara Newhall

By Barbara Falconer Newhall

The woman said yes to The Dress. To the dress she’ll be wearing on her wedding day.

And with that, her mother — that would be me — opened yet another credit card account and [Read more…]


Wedding Dress Shopping — When Your Daughter Lets You Tag Along

Barbara Falconer Newhall's daughter wore a black and white plaid dress to go wedding dress shopping. Photo by Barbara Newhall

Christina donned a dress to go wedding dress shopping. Photo by Barbara Newhall

By Barbara Falconer Newhall

When I picked out my wedding dress forty years ago, I did it all by myself. It didn’t occur to me to phone my mother and ask her to fly 750 miles from her retirement home in Phoenix to my place in San Francisco so she could help me find a dress. As frugal, sensible, mid-century Midwesterners, we didn’t fly [Read more…]


She’s Shaved Her Head Bald — Is Our Daughter Headed for the Dark Side?

A pretty girl, Christina Newhall, has shaved off all her hair and is still pretty. Photo by Tim Beedle

Christina, smiling at us from cyberspace. Tim Beedle photo

By Barbara Falconer Newhall

“Hey, Barbara. Come look. Christina’s bald.”


“Yes, bald. Her picture’s on Facebook.”

I dashed upstairs. I usually do a slow trudge up the stairs when Jon invites me to look at something he’s found on the Internet. Dutifully, I coo at the baby elephant or hiss at the mouthy politico, then I trot back downstairs to my writing room or the kitchen.

Not this time. This was an emergency. I sped up the stairs. Our 32-year-old [Read more…]