My brother posted a beautiful picture of my mom on Facebook, which made me teary. I thought about her but really felt her absence in that moment late this afternoon. Her life brings me to my writing. I feel my calling as a writer comes most significantly out of my knowing her and wanting her stories and my stories and our being children of a Shepard King to come alive on the page.
Her internal life through books along with her general presence in each moment is part of what I take to my work. I sit and imagine holding her hand without embarrassment, apology or pain, because we are both free. The promise of life with Jesus feel close and spurs me on towards that day I will know her all over again in all her beauty.
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