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Roadside Rest: a Creative Nonfiction Cameo

From the cabin of my Freelander, I watched as the F-150 pulled its silver bullet through the gas station parking lot and onto the dirt-paved lot beside it. A tall woman in a basic blue shell and floral skirt suitable for travel emerged from the passenger side of the argon-blue truck. She was physically able but moved with the care of an octogenarian; my guess at her age was confirmed in my mind by the white of her long, straight hair. She moved with ageless grace, royalty on a road trip. Carrying an insulated water bottle by its handle, the woman stepped carefully to the back entrance of the Airstream. She opened the door and leaned in to set the bottle on the top step, freeing her hands to grasp the grab bars on either side and pull herself up into the vehicle. She took her time climbing three steps, placing both feet firmly on each before moving on up. At the top, she carefully removed one sturdy shoe and then the other, tucking both neatly out of the way but still accessible for d...
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Center Stage

Fog descends like a stage curtain Hiding all but the main characters, The closest hemlock, cedar, vine maple, From view, Creating for these a lightbox For stand-out photography Or perfect imprint on mind’s Silver halide.   As the fog rolls in further, embracing my home, suddenly I exist within its lightbox, Centerstage nearly unaware: Just my room, Varied leaves outside my window, The chickadee perched on closest branch, And me—   Centerstage in a bounded world No one can see. *** Photo by Studio Pizza on Unsplash
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What If the Work Continues?

When my husband and I pastored a small church in Maine years ago, a sweet lady in her 90s was a member of our congregation. May Duplisea had lived in that small papermill town her whole life. She had never married nor had children, and I don’t know what she did for work in the days before her retirement. But she had attended the church we were privileged to pastor for a time from the first Sunday her parents brought her as a baby. May knew more about the Bible than anyone we knew and didn’t hesitate to correct my husband if he got a detail wrong during a Sunday school lesson or sermon. Sometimes he had me run fact checks before he taught or preached just to be sure his work would pass May’s scrutiny. Even in her 90s, May could quote lengthy Bible passages by heart, and sometimes my husband invited her to do so both to keep her sharp and to let her set an example for the younger generations. May’s favorite ministry, however, was her art. During the week, May would trace pictures of ...
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But If Not

I am trusting God to provide the money, the time, the health— every resource I find so essential, but if He does not, He is enough. He will always be enough because He is the reason for my being. He created me for Him, to worship Him through all eternity which begins right now, which began when I first knew Him back then at six. But for now, I am here at sixty asking for needs to be met— trusting, waiting, trying, working— all in His presence. If nothing comes of it, He is here. He is there. He is God, and I’m His child.   All is well. * * * Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash
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Raging at Death's Destruction

It’s been six months since my father died. In a way, I am experiencing the grieving process for the first time. Yes. I have grieved for others—grandparents, pets, relationships lost to distance and time. But grieving for my father is different; the pain of his loss cuts deeper. I’ve been writing out this cutting pain through poems, essays, and remembrances. I sometimes feel I’m observing myself from outside of myself, attempting to make sense of what I’m feeling. I’m not yet ready to share most of these thoughts. Just revisiting them in my journal can cause me to close my eyes and shut them out, shut the book, grasp for something, almost anything else. Someday I’ll be ready to face them and to savor their sacred beauty. Encountering them now still takes my breath away. But this most recent observation is ready to be released into the world—or so I believe. If you are experiencing a season of grief, I pray you’ll find some solace here. A few weeks ago, I realized that every death ...
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Potential Examined

As I enter the Autumn of my life—Autumn, not Winter, Autumn—I’m beginning to realize that a lot of the things I once had the potential for, I no longer have the potential for. For instance, a professor of mine once told me I could be our denomination’s first female professor in one of our denomination’s universities’ religion departments. (This was the same professor who gave a whole lecture with my shoe in his pocket when one of my classmates stole it off my foot before class and slipped it to him by sleight of hand. Being one of only two female religion majors had its perils.) That nonsense aside, my professor’s compliment still means something to me, but teaching wasn’t my calling. The potential was there. Now that potential has passed. Our denomination now has several female religion department professors teaching in its universities. This example shows how our lives are built on choices: some that we make for ourselves, some that others make for us, and some that are determine...
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Remembering the Bicentennial on This Semiquincentennial

I was just a kid when our country celebrated its bicentennial—a few years older than my oldest grandchildren are now. This means they’ll be almost my current age when our country celebrates its tricentennial. I wonder if they’ll look back on today’s semiquincentennial (half of five hundred years) as something magical in the same way I look back on the bicentennial. I don’t remember how my family celebrated that year. I’m sure there were fireworks, whether we drove twenty minutes to watch them over Disneyland or in the other direction to watch them at the beach. I do remember the bicentennial quarters and two-dollar bills; I still have a few of each, keepsakes more than currency. But our class field trip to Disneyland is my stand-out memory. In honor of the bicentennial, the amusement park invited elementary school students from all over Orange County to spend a school day at Disneyland. This was before Disneyland offered unlimited access to rides with admission. Guests purchased ticket...
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