My mind whirred like the noise of the mower. I drove back and forth across the ball fields, making sure my mow lines were even. Thoughts rattled around in my head. I lost track of my straight mowing line and almost ran over a softball. Focus, Abby. I saw the company van pull up. My … Continue reading Mulling While Mowing
He sat next to his buddy who was listening to the radio in the lunch room. His eyes followed me while I walked back and forth to each different hall. I had a laundry basket balanced on one hip, a stethoscope around my neck, and a medicine book in my free hand. A blood pressure … Continue reading A Promised Dance
Even the Thai Ronald McDonald knows how to show respect...Thailand 2011 My younger sister and I sat at a coffee shop in Cambodia. Our caffeinated brains buzzed while we discussed what it means to transition through life as an MK. “Abby, I don’t understand what the big deal about being a missionary kid is. We’re … Continue reading MK: Who Am I, Really?
I have a hole in my heart. I keep trying to shove things into it, but nothing fits. Nothing works. The more I try to shove stuff in, the more I realize nothing goes into the hole. I end up feeling raw and hurt from trying to cram things where they don’t belong. I am … Continue reading Psalm 63 and Peanut Butter
Dear sister, You are waiting. You are waiting for prince charming. You are waiting for that someone who will make you feel special and beautiful. You are waiting for that feeling of security. You want to feel the butterflies in your tummy when you see him walk in the room. You are waiting to be … Continue reading Single and Waiting: God Wants Our Hearts
I wrote a poem as a bitter fourteen- year old missionary kid. It was about a flower that never got solid roots, because it kept getting ripped out and re-planted in new places. Since then, I’ve often struggled to feel like I have a home or a certain place I belong. I’ll never forget once … Continue reading MK: I Am Home
I hope you realize something. I hope you realize that I see you. I hear you. I know. I see you when you are frustrated because your hands don’t work the same way they used to. You can’t open jars anymore. You can’t play the piano like you used to. You can’t knit anymore. You … Continue reading A Letter To My Aging Friends: God’s Not Done With You Yet.