The Glorious Muddle
glimpses of grace in the messiness of life

June 1, 2022

The Month with the Most Light

The longest day of the year–the official start of summer–occurs on June 21 this year. To me, this day is no longer Summer Solstice. Forever more, it will be the day to fight Alzheimer’s. In fact, the whole month of June is Alzheimer’s & Brain Awareness Month and purple is the color to wear.

“The day with the most light is the day we fight.”

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May 5, 2022

Why We All Need a Break

Image by ANTHR_Photoblog from Pixabay

My much-needed summer break from my university tutoring gig starts now, and I definitely need it. You may not have a job where you get the summer off, but hopefully, summer will still bring a more relaxed change of pace. Longer days. Vacations. More time outside to play.

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April 7, 2022

Life Returns

Image by kie-ker from Pixabay

Every morning, I see that more blades of grass have pushed against the hard crust of dirt overnight, casting aside the lids of their temporary coffins. Tiny buds, like goosebumps on the arms of trees, begin to blossom, turning the trees into seas of white or pink or purple. Daffodils laugh as their bright yellow trumpets dance.

Once again, spring stubbornly thrusts itself upon the world, reading or not, transforming dull brown into a riot of color. The blades and blooms rise, as they do every spring, and my spirits rise with them. Against all odds, life returns.

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March 9, 2022

Why Historical Fiction Matters (at this time in history)

Image by Nick115 from Pixabay

I love period piece movies and I’d rather read fiction any day over nonfiction. But I have many friends who turn up their noses at made-up stories. They want something serious, they say. They don’t want fluff. They want to learn something, to be provoked to think, inspired to act.

Fiction can do that, I say. Especially historical fiction. And especially right now.

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February 22, 2022

The Weight of Loss

All that remains of my father’s life is found in two cardboard boxes. Is that all his life is reduced to: two small boxes, one new, one weathered over time? Yesterday, I went to the funeral home to pick up his death certificate (cause: multiple system failure, dementia) and the second of the two boxes. I was surprised when I went to lift it.

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