writingtoworship

Wine

“You are so strong!” This is what my friends tell me when I update them on my life. It is what my boyfriend reassures me with when I am struggling. It is what my counselor reminds me of when I am afraid. Why does a history of abuse automatically make me strong? I am notContinue reading “Wine”

Grandpa Ron

In memory of my Grandpa Ron Stockton. Elvis Presley’s voice fills the RV. The words of “Put Your Hand In the Hand” collect in my nearly teenage mind. My dad sits in the driver’s seat, fiddling with his radio. The twenty-seven hour drive bores him, and he finds his entertainment in trying to communicate withContinue reading “Grandpa Ron”

A Cup

Today, I was standing in the kitchen waiting for my mug of Honeycrisp cider to heat up. One minute and thirty seconds left. Two of my roommates are sitting at the table bickering about something trivial. They’re throwing around names of characters–this evening’s argument must be about a show that they’ve been watching. The basementContinue reading “A Cup”

Sierra

A hoof stomped the damp dirt, spraying mud against my face and church shirt. I looked up at Sierra’s toffee-colored face. I was crunched up on the ground, and she towered above me. She lowered her head and nuzzled my shoulder with her velvet nose, smearing molasses on my shirt. My mom would be mad.Continue reading “Sierra”

Statistics

The auditorium was dark except for the plum purple lights lining the walls. The speaker was on break, and we were supposed to have ten minutes of freedom before being herded back down the halls like sheep. I noticed groups of students making their way to the halls despite the lack of overhead light. AContinue reading “Statistics”