Author Archives: Wizard Woodsy

Last night, a friend sent a video from her son’s church. The video dealt with questions of faith congregants had submitted. I connected with each question, but kept going back to one concept or phrase in particular. When I say “kept going back,” I mean I watched that part at least three times. Several questionsContinue reading “On Stretcher Bearers and Sneaky Angels”

Tomorrow, January 24, 2022, will be 17 months. Seventeen months since the world tilted. Seventeen months since our family came undone. Seventeen months since I last believed everything could be alright. Seventeen months since I felt joy untainted by sadness. Seventeen months since I could hug all of my children. Seventeen months. That’s a goodContinue reading “On 17 Months”

It’s been a weird week, full of reading, processing, hoping, praying, thanking, and processing some more. Some weeks are heavier than others. A few days ago, I shared a link to an article/essay, but really a letter. This letter is to the “Friend of a Bereaved Parent” and asks for time, patience, and understanding asContinue reading “On Emerging Nuances”

For over a year now, I’ve planned to start some form of support group for bereaved parents in my area. Initially, I thought I’d try to start a local church-based group. I went through that program, starting about two months after Cooper died, and it was mostly helpful. I’m aware, though, that the label Bible-basedContinue reading “On Compassionate Friends”

Solidly into winter here—mind, body, dark and twisty mood, and freeze-your-nose-hair cold outside—I’m trying to keep myself entertained. I’ve been puttering in the room that cannot be named. It’s weird. For most of the time we’ve lived here, that room was Cassidy’s room. After she moved out, her bed stayed but the room turned intoContinue reading “On Paint, Hand Planes, and a Bit of Wood Filler”

My living room is a wreck—the kind of wreck you’d get if Hobby Lobby, Joann, and Michaels all vomited in the same room. It started Monday, a rough day in a rough week in a rough season. So rough that I watched Monday Night Football alone, knowing I’d be terrible company even with my footballContinue reading “On Snarky Shirts and Christmas Totes”

A tiny willow branch wreath. That’s what I can give my son today. I’ve helped make several of these little wreaths, about the size of a bangle bracelet, with treasures harvested from family and friends and strangers. This one, though, is special. It’s for my boy. Some of the components are left over from aContinue reading “On Wreaths, Glue, and Extras”

The last week has been a Russian nesting doll of grief—looming holidays hold haunting dreams, dreams carry the varying squeeze of anxiety, anxiety nestles stress, and, deep and solid inside them all, sadness. Last Thanksgiving, Covid put our family traditions on hold. Three months after Cooper’s death, I’m not sure we could’ve handled the traditions—traditionsContinue reading “On Nasty Nesting Dolls”

I’ve made countless trips up and down the gigantic ladder since Friday; the lights for the show are coming along, one trip at a time. They aren’t perfect or finished, but what (or who) is? From my very first show in Rushville, way back in the spring of 2006, I’ve loved the lights. I hungContinue reading “On The Light Guy’s Handwriting”

I could write some fluffy, alliterative piece about today, but it’s Friday of an exhausting, caustic week. One of those weeks. Instead, I’m keeping it short and snarky and attaching a Snapchat picture—captions and all—because I like it better than the other photo option. Salty Friday attitude, I guess. Today I started working on lights,Continue reading “On A Gigantic Stepladder”