Author Archives: Kari

through a glass, darkly. 1

Yesterday, Atticus saw a teeny tiny plane on the spine of our phone book. He ripped it off the shelf, chanting “aih-pane, aih-pane, aih-pane.” To his grave disappointment, there were no airplanes in the book. He was inconsolable. I tried to find some airplanes in the yellow pages, but the small pictures there did not [...]

saving my life. 1

Last October, Mike and I took Atticus on an art crawl in a local neighborhood. He cared more about the neighborhood dogs than the pottery, but he smiled as I carried him in the Ergo, and someone gave me a small glass of wine, and we had beautiful fall weather, and he was wearing the [...]

if your soul is to be saved. 4

Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from and is [...]

saving my life. 4

We call it communion. Most Sundays, we stand in a circle and pass the bread and cup around. The body of Christ. The cup of forgiveness. It goes from hand to hand. It’s funny when she has trouble pulling off a piece of bread, or when he forgets what to say. The symbols are sacred [...]

for my wild thing. 10

For Atticus, because Maurice Sendak died. Dear Atticus, We adults remember details from childhood: the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows, summer twilight in the yard, measuring the snow with a yardstick. We forget, sometimes, how scary childhood can be. Even if you feel safe in the home your dad and I have created, [...]

good things in april. 2

The only problem I have with keeping good things is that good things can’t always reflect the larger heart-changes that are going on. This was one of those months where years of reading and reflection and conversations started to gel. Do you keep track of good things? And what are you reading? Post them in [...]

why I’m voting against amendment one. 8

When we named our son Atticus, we said we did so because it’s important to stand up for what is right. So I am going to wade into the contentious waters of politics to talk about something that is happening in North Carolina that I believe is very wrong. On May 8th, North Carolinians will [...]

saving my life. 2

This week, I have been sick. Kleenex and cough drops and advil have been essential. My mom took care of Atticus even though I was home (I took two naps that day). But let me tell you about the poetry. I spent weeks deciding which poem I would carry on Poem in Your Pocket Day. [...]

the joys of boys. 4

Two Sundays ago, I picked Atticus up from the nursery and we went out the back door of the church, heading for the car. This was a bit of a miscalculation, because it meant that we had to go by the playground, but I decided not to fight it. He loves climbing up the slide, [...]

saving my life. 3

I hate all this testing, a student says pointedly in my direction. As if I pursued my certification just to force him to bubble answers for hours at a time. When I offer that it’s not exactly the dream that we all had when we went into teaching, another student asks: What do teachers dream [...]

how do I get out of this labyrinth? 1

I circled the church twice looking for parking, then got lost in its halls. When I finally made it to the entrance, I missed the beginning of the path, right in front of me. It was an inauspicious beginning. But Mike had said he thought I would chicken out, and I am just stubborn enough [...]

believing. knowing. trusting. 8

I went to a baby shower on Saturday for a friend I have known since first grade. First grade, y’all! I have known her for 26 years! That is kind of a long time. This is an open letter to her about new motherhood. Dear New Mama, You can look back over old posts and [...]

saving my life: fermata 5

My grandma, my mom, and three of my aunts all worked (or are currently working) as teachers. I hear that there are people who believe that teachers are lazy, but I did not grow up among them. But I did work in a job where I got 10 days of vacation, so I understand the [...]

practice resurrection. 0

A repost of my favorite Easter poem. Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation with pay. Want more of everything ready-made. Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die. And you will have a window in your head. Not even your future will be [...]

saving my life 2

When you work with teenagers, you serve as a daily witness to a thousand triumphs and tribulations. The worst parts of my job are watching the things I remember hating about middle school reenacted before my eyes. The best parts involve seeing the students, really seeing them, and letting them know that they are seen. [...]

there is no end to the other world. 0

April is National Poetry Month. “Last Supper” by Charles Wright I seem to have come to the end of something, but don’t know what, Full moon blood orange just over the top of the redbud tree. Maundy Thursday tomorrow, then Good Friday, then Easter in full drag, Dogwood blossoms like little crosses All down the [...]

good things in March: saying thank you and waving 1

April is National Poetry Month. “Thanks” by W. S. Merwin Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings we are running out of the glass rooms with our mouths full of food to look at the sky and say thank you we [...]

saving my life 11

For the next few months, my mom is watching Atticus three days a week. I could explain the reasons to you, but what is really important is that Atticus is getting extra Grammy Time. He still goes to his school two days a week, and other than Monday’s meltdown (which was not repeated on Thursday), [...]

down the stairs. 1

Atticus has not yet thrown himself down any staircases. He pauses, slightly bent at the waist, at the top of the stairs. Usually. If he is looking. He can climb down using the railing, and he can scoot down on his bottom. But his preferred method is to wait, hand in the air, until someone [...]

The Limpopo Academy of Private Detection by Alexander McCall Smith 2

In a shocking turn of events, I have not had a lot of patience or attention for fiction so far this year. I was kind of kidding when I said that at the beginning of February, but it has turned out to be true. I keep moving the fiction further down my bedside table and [...]