by Cindy McKee My weight-loss story goes back three decades to the birth of my first child. For 32 years, I tried to lose the baby fat using various weight-loss plans and supplements. I rode the roller coaster of weight gain and loss. As soon as I stopped dieting, the pounds would come back with
Dear Dad: I’m pretty sure you’re the reason I’m afraid of heights. If I shut my eyes tight, I picture you flinging me in the air. When my wispy, almost-white baby hair brushes the living room ceiling, I whimper. Gentle and close you gather me, make my chest flush with yours. “There, there, honeypot,” you whisper.
by Rachel Ellis “Certainly work is not always required of a man. There is such a thing as a sacred idleness, the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.” —George MacDonald I’ve always loved the mountains. Rugged strength, hues of monochromatic color towering deep into the skyline. There isn’t a thrill in the world like
For 20 years I never slept in. Not because of kids, though. Because of pets. For two decades straight I woke up earlier than I wanted so my family could sleep in. Each morning, if I didn’t tiptoe downstairs before six or seven for doggy detail, one or both of our canines would howl—a very
by Karen Haring Just this week, I was talking through a struggle with my counselor. One that made me cry, one that I wasn’t sure how to navigate. “Do you think it could be because you devalue yourself?” Ugh. Don’t you just love it when your counselor/friend/significant other nails it? And you didn’t even see
Mrs. Burdette, the lady who had been old since I was a little girl, was a bit like a grandmother. We met her at our church where she “adopted” us. She had no grandchildren and only two grown children—a son who visited infrequently and a daughter with Downs Syndrome who lived in a group home.
What was that? I slowed slightly, turned off the radio, listened. Nothing. I flipped down the rearview mirror. Blue and red lights flashed. I rolled out my lower lip. Really? Twice in one day? After I maneuvered my car to the side of the road, I rolled down my window and watched his approach in the
Our middle child has had a busy year. Last May she graduated college. In the fall, she backpacked through Europe—sightseeing by day, couch-surfing by night. At the beginning of this year, she and a college friend flew to Peru to teach English for a few months at a small school in the mountain town of Huyancao.
I used to be a grocery store snob, shopping only at Giant Eagle and Kroger. I never set food inside Aldi even though I heard a lot of buzz about their “awesome produce” and “super low prices.” At the time I thought: Surely low prices mean low quality. I was so “bougie” about grocery shopping
“Hi, my name is Katie, and I am a crier. I’ve been a crier for a long time.” I cry about everything. Hallmark commercials (most commercials). Children’s books. While at the grocery store and on the sidelines of a parade. And while the majority of the world somehow has their act together enough to keep
