All posts tagged: life

Afternoon with the Trembling Giant

I’m convinced that there is no more beautiful spot on earth on the first of June than Cherry Lane. It runs just south of my back yard. When the afternoon spills its light just before dusk, brilliant and lavish, the field grasses on the hillside seem lit from within, topped with flames of white fire. It’s holy. * There’s a stand of a half dozen aged poplar trees on the west side of the lane growing near a small culvert and behind a low, stone wall. The stones cracked free from some ancient lava flow, and now they rest one atop the other covered in lichen and last year’s moss. The poplar leaves rustle in the slightest breeze and always make the sound of a rushing mountain creek. The wet, pungent scent of poplar and the small watery roar instantly pulls me back to when I was a little girl. Dad would drive the old camper truck off onto random forest service roads in Colorado and while mom cooked lunch on the propane stove, we’d …

To Make Art of Our Tears

We held a small memorial for a little creature whose ability to receive love taught us all a big lesson: to love is to name is to care is to keep. It is to mourn and to cry, too; and it is to continue to create and care about the living and the dying and the not-yet-born.

One does not need to do anything remarkable to be an object of love. One only needs to be that which it is – cat, boy, mom, dad, human, alive.

A New Normal, A Better View

We slurped angel hair pasta with meat sauce for dinner at about 8:30. The TV joined us because we’ve been watching old episodes of Chuck. It was Wednesday night, which meant that the boys needed to put out the garbage for early morning pick-up. The laundry is a bit stacked up, the floors need mopping and I started a grocery list. All is normal at the Santos house. And I couldn’t be happier about that. All this normal. Well, it’s a dream come true for me. Anyone who knows me, who’s read much of this blog, knows that three years ago, our normal was shocked, interrupted by a drunk driver. The accident was near-fatal and although our kids miraculously walked away from the wreckage, the impact left Angelo trapped behind the steering wheel with a broken fibula and me, well, broken, in a lot of ways. Somehow my leg lay flung and awkward on the dashboard. I was immobile as I sat oddly in the passenger seat, wondering why breathing was becoming so difficult and …

More Courage: Just Enough to Rest {a story of a baby lost}

Courage: mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty Encourage: to make (someone) more determined, hopeful, or confident This is a story of more courage. {It tells about my empty spaces, where I found I had none, and how Courage came through the cracks of brokenness.} I never felt my vulnerability more than when I was pregnant with our daughter, Isabella. Except of course, when I was pregnant with our daughter, Annalia. Eight years separated these sisters and a brother in between, and although every pregnancy seemed to rub raw the edges of my confidence, something happened before my daughters that caused me to wrap arms around my soul to keep the badness away. Each daughter’s birth was preceded by miscarriage.

The Advent Fulfilled: My Prayer This Christmas

“It’s a scary thing to pray for someone to recognize her own need for Jesus,” she confided, “Because you don’t really know what God might allow to bring that about.” I nodded. I agree. And I know from personal experience that it’s not enough to “be on good terms with God”. It’s a comfortable place, the good-terms-position, because it relies on the grace found in the name of Jesus Christ while denying the requisite of the shedding of his blood. It relies on the good nature of God while ignoring his justice. It relies on the morality of ones’ actions and dismisses the whole of the person Immanuel. Because however it happened, whatever it took to place the person of God into a crying, suckling, messy human baby, it didn’t happen so that we could keep grace in our back pockets and face the day to day according to our own wills. God himself submitted his will to the necessary, the vile, the reproachable so that I can have the freedom to choose or deny …