Book club/play date

19 April 2026: Got to spend time today with Kaitlyn, Kenny, Cece, Cory, Hannah, and Theo--two great couples and two great little kids. 

When your mind is so occupied with illness, death, and aging, being around little ones, especially, is so good for your soul. Had a blast playing with Cece's toys and talking with her and just watching Theo crawl around, play, test his new words, and take in new things. 

"Gold Watch"

18 April 2025: Yesterday, I posted about the Lord sending letters that speak to me in precise, moving ways. Another arrived today in the form of "Gold Watch," a story by John McGahern, read by Tessa Hadley on The New Yorker Fiction Podcast. 

I listened to it as I mowed the lawn this morning, grateful for a stretch of time to take it in and sunglasses to cover my eyes in case anyone noticed a teary-eyed person pushing the mower. 

I can't really bring myself to write more about why it moved me. But I felt seen and understood, a bundle of emotions crashing together, too. 

"letters from God dropt in the street"

17 April 2026: 

In "Song of Myself," Whitman writes:

"I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign’d by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe’er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever."

I am thinking of those lines tonight as I think about four literal pieces of mail that I received today--two from current students, one from a former student, and another from someone at an institution I gave a small donation to. 

The two from current students arrived via campus mail, part of a Program Board event where students could send thank-you letters to their teachers. They landed in my hand right after I found myself feeling very down on my walk to the mailroom--full of sadness and anxiety about so much. By the walk back to my office--with those unopened notes in my hand--I felt a different kind of teary. When I opened them? Magical stuff to read. 

The other two were in my mailbox when I got home; I love the idea that one is from the "past," so to speak, from a former student. But because we are still in touch, she's also part of my present and future. We've been sending each other genuine letters--long, comtemplative, thoughtful. It's meaningful and special to me. 

The last--from someone in donor relations at UNCG--made me happy because it made me think of a place I love and a place that shaped me. The good work they do there goes on. A young woman I'll probably never meet reminded me of that in a handwritten note.

As I keep writing in these posts, so much is so hard. It can--at least metaphorically--buckle my knees at times. It was on that walk down the hall earlier today, as text messages from home and from Pennsylvania filled me with sadness and fear. 

But the Lord sends letters to me--to all of us, reminding me of His presence. Today the letters were literal. I am so grateful.

6:34

16 April 2026: At the tail-end of a very long and busy week and at the end of a non-stop day, getting home at 6:34 p.m. seems like a little victory. Reheated some leftovers for dinner, watched Jeopardy!, got some more work done, and am settling in for the finale of The Pitt in a few minutes. 

There in the distance I see it--the light at the end of the tunnel. So much more to do, but I can see it ahead. 

"Our Book of Delights"

15 April 2026: 

"...But it’s our own ferns and fiddleheads, 

evergreens and sugar maples, trillium blooming, or on the verge, 

for no one in particular, for everyone in particular, as if to say, 

Go on, enjoy it..."

Oh, man...this one got me. I feel like such a mess and this is just what I needed to read. It's Arielle Hebert's "Our Book of Delights."

Accountability...

14 April 2026: Thinking again tonight about how I need to control my temper more. It doesn't manifest in yelling or anything like that...just being snappy. I don't like it. 

Nothing major...just wish I could do better. Calling myself out, I guess, for accountability. 

Potluck stop...

13 April 2026: I could only stay for about 40 minutes, but the Sources of Strength end-of-the-year potluck was really lovely. I haven't had the chance to do much with this group, but I am glad to be a part of it. 

Jo and the Redbud...

12 April 2026: Got home from PA, opened the windows, and found Jo framed by the redbud tree, a little tradition we're developing.

Vogel's birthday dinner...

11 April 2026: One day late, but happy to celebrate Vogel's birthday today.

Big Dog

10 April 2026: This is one of my favorite moments from the latest set of student paper conferences that I finished today:

I'm talking with a student whose mother has just had surgery. When the conference ends, I tell him that I hope her recovery continues to go well. I don't know why, but I wask him, "What do you call your mom? Mom? Mama? Mommy?"

He pauses for a moment.

"I actually call her 'Big Dog.'"

I burst out laughing as he adds, "Yeah, she thanked me for helping her with something and I said, 'Whatever you need, Big Dog." 

Amazing. 

A multiple-hat day...

9 April 2026: A long day with lots of different tasks to do/hats to wear. Conferences with ENGL 102 students this morning. Work on the composition textbook in the early afternoon. Then adjunct interviews. Then NWP work. Now back to teaching prep and other associated "teacher tasks." 

Twenty more minutes until the "work" part of the day ends and I can watch The Pitt.

Still pushing back against feeling overwhelmed, but a day like this--when I can make progress on lots of things, even just a little bit on each--feels pretty good. 

Two good updates...

8 April 2026: Still pretty crazy and stressful here but two good updates are helping a lot.

First, a family member who had been in the hospital is now home and resting. 

Second, I had a good conversation with a friend who had done something hurtful. We talked it out and while things aren't perfect, it feels good to just choose grace and friendship rather than bad feelings. 

First mow...

7 April 2026: Once again feeling overwhelmed by...everything. Even good news (being invited to the next stage of a grant competition) makes me want to cry a bit, wondering when I'll get that done.

I snuck home this afternoon after conferences with my ENGL 102 students so that I could take care of the first mow of the season. A sure-fire sign of April and its frantic rush is just this situation: "if I don't mow it during this narrow window of free time, everything will be terrible..." 

On my way to the car, a colleague stopped me to say hello. "One thing I can tell you," he said, "when you are done, you'll see it." He's so right. It helps to make little bits of progress, however fleeting.

Stopped and snapped a couple of pictures as I worked, particularly of my beloved redbud tree, doing its thing and leaving me in awe all over again. (Consciously kept the mower in the shot! Ha!)

I texted Hannah later and said, "I stood and looked at the freshly-cut lawn with all the satisfaction of a suburban dad, as per usual." 

Spent the rest of the day working from home and making pretty good progress: did some course prep, finished gradig a stack of essays, sent about 100 emails. Hanging in there.  

Psalm 147:3-4

6 April 2026: 

Praying for healing for a loved one tonight...

"He heals the brokenhearted 

    and binds up their wounds.

He determines the number of the stars

    and calls them each by name."

Easter 2026

 5 April 2026: 

I love my little egg son. 

Had a wonderful Easter with Erin, Eric, Krista, and Isla. So blessed to have them so close.