Where is Jon? I’ve been widowed three years and I’m still expecting him to come back. It’s not possible that he is gone for good, snuffed out. Read more.
My Rocky Spiritual Journey
You don't have to be a big believer to find something interesting to read here . . . You'll find excerpts from the spiritual journeys of people I've met on the religion beat as well as reports of my own fraught encounters with religion and spirituality . . . as well as updates on my book, "Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith," from Patheos Press.
Widowed: The Things My Husband Wanted. (Or, We Are What We Want)
I feel the sharpest grief when I picture my husband alive and wanting something, planning something — picking out artichokes for dinner, making a grandchild laugh. Read more.
Widowed: We’re Older and Kinder Now
I’m older and kinder now, but not because I’m a virtuous goody-good. It’s my irresponsible id, my reptilian brain, that wants to be kind. Read more.
Nature Giveth and Nature Taketh Away
Against all odds, a flowering fruit tree took root in the wild canyon below our house, but not for long. Nature giveth, nature taketh away. Read more.
Am I Still Old? Or Am I Elderly Now?
Head-spinning vertigo had me stumbling around the house like an old lady. I had to wonder, am I still just old? Or have I moved on to being elderly? Read more.
Widowed: The Perfect Husband. The Perfect Christmas Tree
Widowed: The perfect husband? The perfect Christmas tree? I started a list of all the things that annoyed me about Jon. But I lost the list. Read more.
Blood and Guts in My Backyard. Or, Nature Tidies Up
Blood and guts in my backyard: A half-eaten deer lay sprawled under my cypress tree. Ravens croaked the news from the tree above. Read more.