Hope

Faith, for me, isn't what I thought it would be. It's smaller. Quieter. Less certainty and more company. Fewer answers and more presence. Some days I don't know what I believe. But I know I'm not alone in the not-knowing, and that turns out to be the part that…

A hummingbird stopped at my window this morning. Just hovered there, looking in. I hadn't cried in weeks. I cried at a bird. I think that counts as something. I'm going to let it count.

She used to leave the porch light on for me, even on the nights we didn't speak. Especially those nights. I didn't know that was a kind of language. A quiet way of saying: whatever today was, you still have a way home. I leave the porch light on for my kids no…