As the Fog Clears

| This is the 292nd story of Our Life Logs | My parents had me on June 27, 1952. I grew up in Yazoo City, Mississippi, the third of five children. My childhood was full of laughter, smiles, and love. One of my fondest memories is swinging so high on the playset in our backyard that the metal poles would come out of the ground. My … Continue reading As the Fog Clears

No More Pain

| This is the 289th story of Our Life Logs | When my father was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer in 2006, I remember an overwhelming feeling of relief. Relief. Who does that? Who has such a blessed feeling when their father has received a death sentence? If I told you why, would you understand? Could you? My life began in Honesdale, Pennsylvania, in 1981, a … Continue reading No More Pain

Forgiving Myself

| This is the 285th story of Our Life Logs | I grew up in the 1960s in Joliet, Illinois, as the second youngest of five kids. I don’t remember any meaningful interactions with my dad. Even when he did seemingly nice things like drop us off at church, he was really only doing it because it was on the way to a bar. Alcoholism ran … Continue reading Forgiving Myself

From the Mud

| This is the 264th story of Our Life Logs | I was born at the start of summer on December 1, 1957, in Cape Town, South Africa. My mother described my birth as “the single most amazing experience” of her life. But even so, my existence was not enough to save her beautiful soul. To know my story, you must know my mother’s first. Ingrid, … Continue reading From the Mud

Words That Heal

| This is the 262nd story of Our Life Logs | Trace all our sketches, all our etches in time, some hold all our reasons, some only a rhyme. —“untitled” by John Stalter I was raised through the ’90s in Midwestern Minnesota by parents born in the ’60s, two upstanding, conservative Christians who worked their way into a larger piece of the pie thanks to their … Continue reading Words That Heal