Writing

I'm quite fond of holiday-related home décor. I admire my friend Kristen’s designation of bar-top counter space for each holiday’s festive wares. And I’m usually not offended by October decorations showing up on July 5. I know, I’m strange that way. In short, I understand consumerism and I appreciate cute decorations and holiday tchotchkes. Here in Florida, we’ve had a sucker of a winter, where temperatures will fluctuate 30 degrees in 6 hours, it seems. I’ve contracted my sh

I decided to retreat from my busy day after dinner tonight. I laid on the floor in the living room and my Bassett-mix hound, Greta, quickly took to my side. Her big paw tapped my face, urging me to pet her. I scratched her neck, scratched her belly, and noticed how saggy her gut is now that she’s 11. My perspective is so different from down here, I thought. She knew I needed to relax tonight after a busy day, or did she? More likely, she needed me to relax for her. So, I deci

What stories does your mind tell you about your body? My mind, over 35 years of being a female who judges her body (I estimate I started when I was 7), has created the following thoughts: my forehead is high my eyebrows are bushy my head is big my feet are big, too (but my pinkie toenail is very, very small) my teeth are not straight enough my butt is rather flat the veins in my hands are very pronounced … and someday soon I will inevitably inherit my grandmother’s potbelly.

I remember the story like it was yesterday. Her parents bought her a 10k gold garnet and cubic zirconia ring; her first “real” ring. They gifted it in honor of her 13th birthday, and she was beyond moved. To her, the ring represented their love for her, their pride in her, how she was a good daughter deserving of such a valuable gift. The next week at school, she arrived in science lab class proudly wearing her shiny new ring. No doubt she showed it to her friends and they wi

Some people have impressive memory banks. My sister could probably tell you what shirt I was wearing that time in high school my Volkswagen Super beetle broke down in the mall parking lot. My husband likely could recall every vacation we’ve taken since we got married, in what year and month the vacation occurred, and how many restaurants we dined in while we were out and about. “Did we go on vacation last summer, honey?” “You mean that one to Yellowstone that cost us thousand

Helene and I, June 2018 in DeLand outside of our church. I'm holding the magazine in which this article published. She was so proud of it. Helene Kereluk of DeLand is the queen of near misses. Or she simply may be the most fortunate German-born, Belgium-raised, DeLand-living 92-year-old you are about to get to know. She found food when there was none. She walked lightly when Nazis were listening. She left the farmhouse hours before the Germans destroyed it. She avoided joinin

Childbirth is no divine mystery. What happens afterward is a different story. “I need to push!” I cried out as the contractions pressed more fiercely. Thirty minutes later, my beautiful baby boy was born at lunchtime on a Thursday. Despite his cramped exit, his head was perfectly shaped, his dimpled chin reflecting his father’s – a trait I’d prayed for every night Michael rubbed lotion on my blossoming belly. The labor and delivery were textbook, no, Lamaze instructor-hopeful

Did Paul ask his friends if what he preached was OK? Did he run by them nightly what he was going to say? Or did he go to the source, the summit, the whole, did he go to the one that spoke to his soul? Do I care what people think? Do I choose my words scared? If no one else does, does it matter that I cared? When I go to the truth with no pitstop along, the passages I read become my innermost song. The second greatest gift, behind the gift of His Son, is the scripture we clin

I leash up the pup, and we go on a walk, hoping there’s a neighbor to whom we can talk. I spotted her, across with her pooch riled up and rustled, It turns so uncomfortable we both start to hustle. The small fluffy dog turns on the defense, And we scurry away because, well, it only makes sense. “I refused to be mauled by an ankle biter, “I say, it’s too bad that she can’t control her animal anyway. They say walking dogs makes you get out and chat, but this lady really should’

Piling up famous details of her discontent, Stacking them like tokens. Birthing them from her marriage to selfishness, Building them up like temples. Knowing them until her surrender, Destroying them slowly, and yielding to something new.

My mind is obsessed with solving problems, I must know the cure, I must know how to solve them. It’s so rare that I’ll stop, and I let Jesus do it, sometimes I feel like there’s really nothing to it. But it overwhelms my senses and truncates my peace, I must get better at the gentle release. To put my mind in a space That’s not obsessed with solving, I don’t need January to do this resolving. One step at a time, one moment each, giving it to God is the goal that I’ll reach.

I’m growing out my hair and I twirl it and play, I imagine it’s as long as three feet. Then I look at a photo, and it’s still so short, The process is slow but sweet. For years and years my pixie was the thing, And now I have strands galore. They don’t cover my neck, don’t touch the shirt, But I feel like Rapunzel or more. What will I change next, hair color, my curls? Buy a device that will kink? It probably doesn’t matter to them, but for me, It’s fun to not care what they

He’s leaving again, My man child. No longer holding my hand, Forgetting the Legos stacked in his closet. He’s on his own, My man child. Forgetting to check the knife, Retelling the TSA tale to his father. He’s on his own, My man child. Flying through the sky, then onto trains and into cars, Recalling how he asked for this adventure. My son, the boy. My son, the fighter. My son, the seeker. My son, the Cadet. My son, you’re never on your own, really, Because you’re always with

Transformed into a fireplace, smoke and ash, floating and falling, embers glowing in the distance. It was our home, it was our street. Gray sun, gray sky. Chimneys like gravestones. Buried treasures never again found. Who do I blame? Which fingers get to point? No answer, no confession. And, no strength as strong as hers. She will rip and scorch all in her path, with no explanation, no apology. She leaves only her promise of returning again.

Such a sad face, young girl, with your eyelashes as long as peahen feathers, slowly rising, and falling, in response to memories that are only yours. I speak love to you, but I speak a foreign language. “I’ve never heard those sounds before.” On the day you were born, with purity and potential on your soul, The world overrode them. Your big green eyes fill with tears, as predictable as the sunrise bell. You arrive every day, speak to no one, and someday you will graduate into

I know you don’t want a puppy, but just to let you know, my friend who works there has a photo to show. Oh really, a puppy? He asked through a frown. Let me take a look, but we’re not going into town. Fair enough, I say, as I show him my phone. I could see in his eyes that resilience had flown. We hop in the car, and we drive to the spot where we will meet our new puppy, but to him, maybe not. I make up my mind and five seconds flat. She’s the one, I definitely know that. He

“Shelter dogs aren't broken. They've simply experienced more life.” So states the touching Pedigree dog food commercial that ran throughout my On-Demand viewing of “Bethanny Getting Married?” last night. I worked my wimpy abdominal muscles as I pulled up from my horizontal couch position and peered at her. She was sleeping soundly on her faux suede-covered bed. Her big paws were tucked under her hairy belly – one that never held pups. I whispered, “Hey Greta girl. You doin’ a

I Know… 1. I, Vickie, know that God is my friend and will never leave me. 2. I, Vickie, know that I trust that He will fulfill my every need and that nothing happens without His consent. 3. I, Vickie, know that I am never really alone, even if I feel that way. 4. I, Vickie, know that I am a loving person with lots of love to give. 5. I, Vickie, know that I am an optimist. 6. I, Vickie, know that I am truly blessed. I Promise… 1. I, Vickie, promise to give myself credit when I

I miss the days of good mail. It used to be that at the end of each workday I’d escape from my office like an indentured servant whose contract expired after eight hours of computer-staring and politeness. I head home with two thoughts on my mind: What’s in the mailbox? I hope there’s some good mail in there. My imagination takes off; I fantasize about my good mail potential. Though I know how crazy it would sound if I were to say it out loud, in my head, these ideas make se

To Mimi with love, From this dock where we watch, Sparks light up the sky and then fade. Born two days before, the big July 4, You were made to so fiercely cascade. To Mimi with love, From this yard where we see, The babies you love toddle, fall. The generations before, All of whom you’ve adored, Benefitted by your motherly call. To Mimi with love, Mickey and Minnie say “Hi!” From the land of fantasy and charm. From magical moments, To characters of yore, Your childlike joy u