Hey everyone. It has been like crickets over on this blog, and I am sorry about that! I just started working for my dream organization, the Collegeville Institute, and the transition from stay-at-home mom to works-part-time mom has been stretching.
I am pleased that my first piece for Off the Page is up today. It's about how I started praying again after a long, silent period.
It starts like this:
I was running on the treadmill, my legs struggling to keep up with the fast moving belt, when I looked up and saw a plane through the window. My eyes tracked the thumb-sized aircraft as it climbed slowly across the sky until – poof – it was gone, swallowed by a cloud. I let out a small gasp, my eyes scanning to where the plane might exit the clouds, hoping to see it emerge again. There it is, still visible but partially cloaked in haze, there it goes again, vanished into the white and grey.
It kept happening, plane after plane, ascending, passing in front of the clouds, then disappearing, then reemerging, then disappearing again. They all made the same journey, and something about it stirred me uncomfortably. I felt sadness when they vanished; I kept returning my eyes to the same place, hoping for another sighting.
Read the rest here.