by Wendy Widder | Sep 6, 2022 | Transitions, Wayside Stops (Reflections)
As sure as the compass points north, I was lost. That night I was driving in downtown Minneapolis for the first time, having moved to the area only a few months earlier. A single woman without a smartphone, I fought the suffocating darkness—both within and without—as...
by Wendy Widder | Feb 26, 2020 | Dad, Pain, Transitions
As I stared into the porcelain bowl of a hotel bathroom on Sunday night, I wanted two things. First, to stop puking, and second, to go home—in that order. A stomach bug when you’re an airplane trip away from home is magnified misery. Think TSA, crowds, and carry-on...
by Wendy Widder | Dec 19, 2019 | Pain, Transitions
A troupe of builders was in and out of our house for much of this past fall. In the theater of our basement, they performed for a seven-week run—hammers, saws, and drills banging, humming, and buzzing in dissonant harmony, while a variety of radio stations blared out...
by Wendy Widder | Jul 17, 2017 | Pain, Transitions
Two years ago this week, I drove across the country to a start a new life in an act of desperate faith that was probably more desperate than faith. My reason for moving was that it was the only door for change that God had left open, and I desperately needed a change....
by Wendy Widder | Oct 14, 2016 | Blessing, Pain, Singleness, Transitions
Tomorrow morning, I will enjoy the luxury of no alarm clock. It’s Saturday. At some sleepy point, I’ll hear one of the happiest wake-up calls in the world—the coffee maker. It will finish spewing and brewing, and my husband will head down the hall to get me a cupful...
by Wendy Widder | Sep 20, 2015 | Pain, Transitions, Tributes
Tomorrow I will attend my home church, as I typically do when I visit my parents for the weekend. With coffee cup in hand, I will make the rounds—hugging old (literally and metaphorically) friends and giving them the sweetened condensed version of how life presently...
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