Thoughts from Audrey Jackson Wright on a broken but beautiful life
If you took a look at my google searches from a few years ago, a few things would happen. First, you'd discover that I'm secretly a hypochondriac who googles ailments and natural remedies like it's my day job [much to my medical professional husband's dismay]. Secondly, you'd realize that for the longest time, I struggled …
Continue reading "On ‘The One’ [and how I could have married anyone]"
Last night, I spent a good twenty minutes with my face down to the floor upstairs in the music venue where our church meets. The floor smelled funky [The kind of funky that makes you question what you're actually putting your face against] and blood started rushing to my head and my tears started running up my nose …
It is 5:30 in the morning, and I’m wide-awake. That statement in and of itself should tell you that God is trying to do something in me. Because in no normal situation would I willingly choose to be awake, alert, and coffee-less at such an hour. There’s something about watching the sun come up in …
Continue reading "On Soaking in the Current Season [and a summer of no social media]"
It felt like I didn’t breathe for several minutes as I stood there, my head dripping suds of shampoo. I slipped to the floor of the shower, hot water running down the top of my head and forming into little droplets on my eyelashes and nose. It mixed. The tears. The snot. The water. I …
"Thank you for chatting with me" He says it every single time we get off the phone. The man whose letters I find in my mailbox. He addresses them with silly names like 'Princess Amidala Jackson' and 'The Queen' and lets me irritate him on the phone when he should be studying the human body …
Continue reading "On Gratitude [and how saying ‘Thank You’ is changing my heart]"
I’m wearing my overalls today. I’m lying on a dock outside of a Mennonite cabin with my hair on top of my head and my tennis shoes on and a flannel shirt wrapped around my waste and my diva-girl sunglasses on and if there was any moment in my life that would be an …
Continue reading "On Wearing Overalls [and feeling like I’m not enough for God]"
She looked like a statue, bent over, the ends of her thick brown hair brushing the cement floor. The room was bare, furnished only with a table and a shelf of fine, light-colored yarn, purchased at the market a few weeks before. On the floor were remnants of lunch—homemade chapatti and chickpeas. And outside of …
Continue reading "When we are afraid [and the great joy that is for all]"
