My mom says that before my first birthday I was talking in full sentences with most of them ending in question marks. In later years, on the drive to school, my dad would lovingly ask me to take a breath and sit with my questions so he might have time to think about his answer before I peppered him with the next one.
And in college, when I was dating my now-husband, Jay, he almost swore off watching movies with me because of the number of non-stop interrogatories concerning what was happening next and why and where and to whom.
I make no apologies for it. I’m a woman — asking questions is what women do; it’s how we make sense of the world around us. And, quite beautifully, at the heart of this very ordinary action lies a real vulnerability, an invitation to a communal experience of the world as we offer to each other, “I don’t know … but maybe you do?”
…Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb, I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture, Through the picture, a something white, uncertain, Something more of the depths—and then I lost it. …What was that whiteness? Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
I have a love-hate relationship with epic novels. The Red Horse by Corti, The Idiot by Dostoevsky, the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I love the gasps and sighs and ups and downs of that first read. I get enamoured with the character development and crave the distraction at work waiting for lunch when I can read while I eat my soup. Nothing beats the kind of 3am and my light’s still on because I need to get to the next chapter thrill. Yet, even though I quest continually to find the next “big novel,” I in turn truthfully hate something about each one: I’ll never read it for the first time again.
“Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile.” Mother Teresa.
We know the saying, “Behind every great man is a great woman.” Case
Below is an interview by contributor Rachel Johnson featuring a woman who embodies a quality every good Confidant has—vulnerability. She boldly connects with other women through her blog, comforting more people than she'll ever know by sharing her life with her readers.
Casey Wiegand is a
Have you ever been devastated? I mean really, really heartbroken? Deep in a valley?
I have. Its scary. It’s dark. It’s lonely. It’s terrifying, really.
And each time I’ve been there, in that scary, heartbroken place, I always wonder: Why me? Why on earth would this happen