It’s a strange thing to read your own memoirs, even when you are the one who wrote them. Last Friday, I ironically finished my final round of proofreads in the very hotel we stayed when Caleb, our oldest, was in a coma after his rollover accident. Everything about Friday was surreal: wrapping up a very […]
Thresholds and Chicken Wings Read More »
A well-known author once said the worst reason to write a book is to save yourself. Maybe she’s right. But in hindsight, that’s why I wrote mine. I was groping around blindly in the dark, vomiting, then deleting word after word, struggling to rephrase them in the most true way. Somehow in the process, I
My “Heartbreaking, Soul-Healing, Amazing, Awful, Ordinary Life” Read More »
*This blog has been written by a guest writer, who, despite my most earnest cajoling, remained firm in their desire to remain anonymous. Please feel free to share any encouraging thoughts generously.❤️ It’s the morning after the hailstorm. Tending to a garden full of broken plants… talking to them –broken and bedraggled–cleaning up all of
I sat in my car yesterday morning, mindlessly staring out my window at the elementary school playground and waiting for my daughter to emerge from our local coffee shop with two steaming morning lattes. Involuntarily, my eyes focused in on a mother walking her son into school–hand in hand. At once, my chest constricted, and
The Interconnectedness of Grief and Aliveness Read More »
*Disclaimer and warning: Do not read if you are easily offended. There is nothing admirable in the words that follow. My parenting skills are abhorrently MIA, and my actions are questionable at best. There is no point, no glimmering lesson. It is simply a stark, bare naked sliver of reality, written mainly for me. It
July 2, 2022 My eyes flicker open to the dark outline of a mountain, and I blink repeatedly, willing the looming shape to disappear, yet simultaneously praying it wouldn’t. This inner disparity makes me feel instantly crazy, for the decision to move was mine. I had driven the real estate search (much to my husband’s
I Went to the Woods Read More »
Here is Grayson, my sixteen-year-old autistic son, on his second day of work. No, he’s not the kid sitting on the stool with the blurred face. He’s the one hiding behind the white “Skip the Line” sign. A family friend has entered the movie theater, so Grayson has ducked out of sight until she has
Donning the Sacred Faded Polo Read More »
Monday, my dad slipped on the unsalted ice at our house and broke four ribs. Tuesday evening, my husband and I were winding down in the hot tub after a long day, and when we got out, we couldn’t find Grayson, our fifteen-year-old autistic son. As we were searching the house and property, our oldest
Broken Ribs, Homeless Boys, Police, and Self-Doubt Read More »
“In our society, where two-legged, two-armed strong Black men were able at best to eke out only the necessities of life, Uncle Willie, with his starched shirts, shined shoes and shelves full of food, was the whipping boy and butt of jokes of the underemployed and underpaid. Fate not only disabled him but laid a
Old Uncle Willie and the Need to Feel Normal When Nothing is Normal Read More »
Here—a thought and prayer about brokenness and our need for healing—and there—a thought about what color feels right to paint our future house. If we do not allow our minds to wander without rigidity while in the spirit of prayer and in the presence of God, how would we ever be inspired? How would we
Corey Hatfield’s journey of love and resilience has touched so many lives. Now, you can share this impact in an intimate, meaningful way.
Purchase a copy for a fellow book lover, a struggling parent or friend, or anyone else who might be encouraged by The Light from a Thousand Wounds. Corey will send a signed copy along with a personalized, handwritten note.
Fill out the following form, and Corey will reach out to arrange the details.