I clearly remember the rain fitting my mood one evening in southern California as my friend told me of his dreams.  He wanted what so many others wanted: a spouse, children, a home, a white picket

“Why should I be sacrificed on the altar of his growth?!”  I remember the day I said these words out loud to God.  I was angry.  Angry and hurt.  I didn’t think I could get

I remember the first time I discovered the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost.  I was 9 years old and living in Japan as a military kid.  Something about this poem captivated me: I

We were walking through the hall on our way to the elevators after a particularly intense class lecture on Nietzsche.  I was a grad student working through my doctoral course work and my companion was a

Something felt familiar.  I was laying in my bed, consumed by sadness, loneliness, pain and grief.  At 17 weeks pregnant we were faced again with a routine appointment that revealed a heartbeat that had stopped.