Stepping stones
byEditor’s Note: We at Topology are currently on our annual publishing break. In the meantime, enjoy this bonus essay on the July theme of…
grief
A day more beautiful
byPhoto: Sorbie Farm, Salem, OH, Hanna Family Archives (circa 1958) It was a day, her uncle said, more beautiful than it had any right…
Politics and the lies we tell about grief
byWhen we do not take grief seriously—our own and another’s—but merely cover its wounds with a garish fairy tale of winking soldiers cheering from…
Find the hope
byOn May 29, 2011, I was in conference with a guest at The Hermitage, a retreat center where I serve as Spiritual Director. It…
Orange silk
byA splash of brilliant orange between many layers. A green dress, moth-eaten, in which she had once danced with her uniformed father amidst the…
Loon egg: Memory of a place
by“You are not welcome at the house because you abandoned the people who lived there.” There were a bunch of other words, but these…
Funeral for Jesus
byChildren gathered around the flowered bier and sang dirges. Burst, his mother cried to the silent God who called her to this. Hidden women…
Tears come
byThe tears start at the back of the eye. I suppress all thoughts of death and blink several times. They retreat. I press my…
A daughter’s perspective on the Kalamazoo cyclist tragedy
byCertain tragedies are so unbelievable, immediately soaking up the nation’s consciousness like a thirsty sponge, that they become synonymous with a community’s name. Think:…
Dresses of them
byLast October a weekend away unraveled into seven days of limbo. I was thankful that the vintage black dress with gold buttons, which I…