Emily Wierenga

Oct 25, 2024 | christiancourier.ca | Emily Wierenga

Chaim Potok would call it “seeing between the blinks.”He says an artist does this. And God. I believe my nephew does, too. He sees what the rest of the world misses. It started with a strawberry. One day we were on the grass in our front yard and my nephew told me he hated strawberries. Not just that he didn’t like them, but he hated being in the same room as a strawberry. He hated how it felt, all bumpy and kind of fuzzy, he hated how it tasted, how it smelled.

Aug 19, 2024 | christiancourier.ca | Emily Wierenga

I’ve been in planes and airports for two days. I arrive home all jet-lagged and weary. That’s when I see it. An empty flower bed, lining my house – empty, that is, except for the weeds. All I can do is whisper a sad prayer to Jesus. You see, I’d tried to plant seeds in March, like my husband plants peppers and tomatoes and pumpkins and even watermelon. I’d planted a package of flower seeds. A few had poked to the surface, then died. Then I’d planted spring bulbs. Our free-range chickens found them.

Jun 17, 2024 | christiancourier.ca | Emily Wierenga

The Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” – Romans 8:15He used to carry me. My father with the scratchy beard and the loud laugh, the kind that threw his head way back. He would carry me as he walked barefoot in Africa. I would feel his heartbeat through his sweaty t-shirt. Soon I toddled after him on short legs in a bunchy diaper. I learned to walk in my father’s footsteps. We would visit the blind together.

May 3, 2024 | christiancourier.ca | Emily Wierenga

There was the communion table. It was really just a stained leather trunk holding memorabilia from my childhood – mixed cassette tapes of Bon Jovi and Brian Adams, public speaking trophies, some melted candles and old photos. The day was white with snow. We draped our trunk with a lace cloth. It felt holy, somehow, like a marriage. It was COVID and we were homebound and desperate for fellowship. So I pulled out a loaf of homemade bread and Trent filled a wine glass.

Mar 15, 2024 | relevantmagazine.com | Emily Wierenga

I had so much baggage as a child it nearly killed me. I moved 10 times before the age of 7. I didn’t talk until I was 4, had my first panic attack at 6, turned anorexic at 9, and nearly died at 13. My grandma committed suicide when I turned 18, I relapsed into anorexia at 22, and became addicted to wine and sleeping pills at 24. I dealt with my pain by lugging it everywhere I went. Many of us do this—we carry around the pains of our past like overpacked suitcases.