Skip to main content


I feel incredibly vulnerable today. I abhor these days. These days of forced sentiments. These days that mark loss.

Eight years ago, my grandfather, the one who stepped in when my own father split before I was even one, passed away due to complications from a hip replacement.

I received the call in the middle of the night. A call that would jolt me from my sleep. He had taken a turn for the worse. There was blood. They didn't know the source. I hung up and called my mother and brother. Instead of leaving for the hospital, I waited for them. It took them about 25 minutes to get to me and the hospital was another 20 minutes away. I got a second call - the call - as we were around the corner from the hospital saying he was gone.

Around the corner. Had I gone alone, I would have made it to him.

I regret waiting. I regret that he died alone.

I should have left immediately.

Last night I slept fitfully as dreams interfered with rest. Accusatory voices echoed in my head: "You were too late. You didn't make it. You left me to die alone."


I cried in church this morning when we sang the words, "All my life I have been called unworthy, named by the voice of my shame and regret. But when I hear You whisper, child lift up your head..."

And I came home and cried until I almost threw up. Or blacked out. I think both. I wanted to break shit and watch all of the pieces fall and scatter. Scatter like the pieces of me. I cried for what was lost eight years ago. For the father who abandoned me. For what my step father took from me. And for what was lost this week in Charleston. And for all of the brokenness. For all of those who hurt today. It welled up from the very depths of my being and broke free, like a dam whose force could not be contained. And it was ugly and raw. It was truth.

A choice. I can stay here in this tortured space haunted by the ghosts of my past, or I can move.

And life is always moving. So, I move, too, even if I protest.

I am not who I used to be. And I hope that I am not too late.


amy danielle said…
This was beautifully written Jade. I empathize its your raw places, your hurt, your shame, your healing process that is not without its scars, mostly, I love you. You are fearfully and wonderfully made and have such a depth about you, it's difficult to describe within the confines of this language we call English. But I suspevt ou know what I mean, luv. It's all of my heart.

Popular posts from this blog


It was Saturday. The mister was at work before dawn. I had planned to sleep in, but I woke up early. I filled  my five-cup coffee pot with water from the tap and the Christmas blend I had left over from 2012. The weather reports had been predicting a warming trend. I opened the front door. The sun was brightly shining and the fresh air was clean and crisp. I breathed it in deep. The lone glitter wreath sparkled where it was carelessly hung on the door. It was the only festive item I had out, and it happened by default as I had found it while rearranging the dining area.

Sometimes you don't see the stagnant until you touch the fresh anew.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and went outside. It was a quiet morning. The skies were bright blue with a few scattered clouds. I sat in silence on an old, weathered bench in the front yard. I closed my eyes as the heat of the sun kissed my face and warmth of the Son touched my soul. Then the sun hid behind some passing clouds, and the breeze tu…


Shortly after the New Year, I took about a three week break from Facebook, deleting the app from my phone. I felt that it was in my best interest. As a whole, it made me feel wretched about myself (or bitter, or judgmental, or a slew of other negative emotions). Not to mention the amount of time I wasted.

It was hard at first, as most habits are, to break. But, as the days went on, it became easier, and I had more time to be engaged in the present. I was looking less at my phone for the red notifications. However, there were certain things I missed, such as seeing pictures of those that live far away, or sharing in others' happy news.

So, after some time, and after I felt like I had found some balance, I decided to log back in. It was the day after the inauguration and the day of the women's march. Two of my best friends and I went together. We joined about 5,000 others in Riverside. People of differing beliefs and backgrounds came together in solidarity, each person choosing …

when you are done

This will probably read more like a quick update instead of my usual posts. It's been a while. I am not entirely sure when I last wrote, or what I wrote about. Probably Grace. Or thanksgiving. And I am sure there was certainly some angst woven somewhere in there. Maybe even a curse word or two.

I can be all about the angst. Sure, there is a time and place, but it's heavy, man. I mean, it's a lot for one person to carry. All. The, Time.

I think it is inherently good to be honest about areas of necessary growth. A huge area for me {although it can be a positive thing} is my emotions. They own me. I feel things deeply. For all the things. All. The. Time. This can be problematic when I have been wounded, or when my emotions are overspent on the same scenarios.

But, with the New Year we ventured back out into the pews or chairs. Among the old and the new. Heavy with liturgy or twinkling with lights under purposely exposed ducts.

I began to feel like Edward Norton's Narrator…