The tulip trees in my backyard need to be trimmed. There’s a branch growing against our detached carport, and it’s pushing the shingles off the roof. I have measured my life in the blooms on those trees—nineteen years in this house and nineteen turns of the calendar. Nineteen springs, summers, falls, and winters charting the…
Scripture
The Word is a Scalpel
The first time I picked up a scalpel, I was fourteen years old and standing over some poor dead creature in the biology lab at my high school. It was a frog, I think. I had quite the enthusiastic anatomy and physiology teacher. We moved from frogs to sharks, then squid and cats. (Yes, cats.)…