The Other Endgame

First things first: spoiler alert. This is going to get messy, because I got messy.

I got the last good seat at the 9:30 showing of Avengers: Endgame—the only seat left from which I wouldn’t have to crane my neck at an obtuse angle. I shuffled in to the row, which was mostly empty at that point, except for the dating couple next to my seat. I apologized before plopping down beside the lady, which made the moment more awkward than it would have been anyway. A little while later, a large man and his young son scooted past us and sat next to me. These were to be my companions for the journey. We had come for entertainment, yes, but also for closure. After twenty-one films of waiting for post-credits questions, we demanded answers.

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My First Mother’s Day

I remember when my best friend told me her mother didn’t want her kids to observe Mother’s Day. This was a family at my childhood church and, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why a woman so like my own mother disapproved of a day whose purpose was to thank and honor her. My friend said that her mother thought children should honor their mothers every day, not just on a day exploited to sell cards and flowers. I couldn’t disagree with this. But I also couldn’t see a problem with also having a special day to show my own mom honor and gratitude for how wonderful she was.

Since my daughter’s recent birth (a month and a half ago), I see this from a new perspective. Not that I’m ready to cancel Mother’s Day celebrations, but I’m also not so confident in my new role as mom that I’m eager to have a day celebrating my motherhood.

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I Lied When I Said I Was Busy

I lied when I said I was busy. I mean, I was busy, but not in the way that you think or in the way most people are busy. There were days when hope seemed like a mystery and joy was a four letter word. So I was busy trying to clear my head and put pieces of me back together. Some days I was just busy remembering to breathe and steady myself. I was busy chasing boys and being a mom while my heart was breaking. I was busy just trying to catch my breath and rest my shaky legs.

Grief was a thief.

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Thoughts on Finishing the Work

On Good Friday, Bill Wolf and a gigantic cadre of musicians brought Wolf’s Easter: Stories & Songs show back home to Knoxville. It was the show’s first return to the city in five years and its first time at the historic Bijou Theatre. It was also the culmination of many months of effort for the players and the production team.

It ended with me driving home in the rain. Of course, even then, it was never really over.

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Easter Stories and Songs

This week leading up to Easter is referred to as Holy Week, or Passion Week, in many of our Christian traditions. We set aside this week to read through the Gospel accounts and remember the final days and sufferings of Christ. Good Friday is when we generally mark the crucifixion, where Jesus sacrificed himself for our atonement.

Friday night at the Bijou Theatre in Knoxville, Tenn. Bill Wolf, theologian and singer-songwriter – and Foundling House contributer, will be presenting Easter Stories and Songs alongside a collection of talented musicians. The evening will be a mixture of narrative storytelling interspersed with music and scripture of the final days of Christ leading up to His death on the cross and His resurrection.

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Flash Fiction: Re-a-li-TEE-VEE

Look.

Although you can barely make anything out, looking as you are from such an odd angle. You are high in the air looking down. Now zooming in, you’re the eye of a helicopter traffic cam on television news.

A young girl’s face is pressed against the pumpkin-orange glass of a convenience store. Her features distorted against the glass wet with her tears, her feet are frozen in place.

Her eyes are looking through the glass at the flashing blue/white lights of police cruisers. Her skin pale orange from the tinted glass, her eyes wide and brown, panic enlarged and pleading.
Look. Don’t turn away.

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