Raising Magnolias

Because it's never too late for happily ever after…

Being an Atheist

My alarm rang loud at 3:45 this morning. I jumped with a start. I was surprised to have slept.

I moved quickly, only changing my shirt. I slept in my pants. Not a minute can be wasted on travel day. My hair is, well, let’s just say that I miss my pony. There’s not a lot you can do to hide the mess that is my hair, but seriously, what does it matter? It’s not like there’s someone at home waiting for me who actually cares about my hair.

Well, that’s not true. Coulter cares. He literally cried when I cut it.  “Coulter what’s wrong?” I pleaded? “I thought you said you liked it?” Tears rolling, he continued, “I did, but I was just trying to not hurt your feelings.”

Oh ok, well, at least you didn’t hurt my feelings.

I brush my teeth and catch a quick glance at myself in the mirror. Note to self for travel day: no more looking the mirror unless it’s the rearview kind. Kids are wrapped, pulled from their comfy beds and snug-tucked into their seats; puppy on his pillow; mom with steaming hot tea and tears running down.

We wave good bye. Little ones’ eyes close back shut. It’s 4:00 a.m. We are off. Again.

We will be back.

I drove in silence for almost 4 hours. I watched the sun rise over Old Main and remembered sisters and friends and roommates and dreams and hearts breaking young. I drove through mountains; hills and valleys. I drove past cows grazing and corn growing. I drove and I drove and I drove.


I prayed. I gave thanks.  I cried.

In God’s grace and mercy, we arrive back to Nebraska safely and without any good stories for my blog. No arguing; no puking; no nothing….we only needed one napkin for the entire trip and that was because Coulter wouldn’t let Emma Claire use his underwear as an eraser for the wipe board. I actually thought it was a good idea. The ink was black; the undies were black. Coulter felt differently.

 It was good. It was grace.

Stiff and tired and road-weary, we make our way slowly into the house. The house that seems so empty and less of a home than the one we just left.  My mail was on the counter. I open it.

A check from Momaha. $100

A check from AJ Manor. $140

A rejection letter from the latest interview. Sorry, you are good, but not quite good enough.

Wait. Are they talking about me the potential employee or me the wife?

You were good; just not quite good enough.

I can’t breathe. I open one last letter. It’s a calendar. Remember November? November that just weeks ago seemed so far off; too far off; November that felt a lifetime away? So far off that I cried out to my attorney as if to say, are you freakin’ kidding me?

Yes, that November.

It’s three months away. From tomorrow.

And I can’t breathe.

But then I remember. Ann Voskamp says that worrying is a form of atheism. I catch my breath. I speak to my fear and to my worry.

Tonight I’m gonna sleep. Tonight I’m going to rest in Him. (And I’m actually going to wear pj’s instead of, you know, my travel pants), because I know that He never sleeps and He never slumbers and I can cast all my cares on Him and I can lay my burden at His feet and I say to the fear, “you may go now, thank you very much” because here’s the thing.

I am no atheist.






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4 thoughts on “Being an Atheist

  1. This is so beautiful…. I have been working on post, based on Ann Voskamp’s theory of this too because I am scared right now. Thank you for posting this…These words just might be what I needed for a good night’s rest. Take care, I hope to see you soon!

  2. Thanks, Courtney! You are so encouraging. Are yall back in Nebraska? I’ve been thinking about you….

  3. Stephanie Lynch on said:

    Sad you all are gone….glad you’ll be back!!!!!

  4. Deanna Moser on said:

    MK, I love your posts and hearing your thoughts about the journey you are currently on – which you put into words so beautifully – and with great humor! I continue to pray for you and the kiddos – would love to see you if you make it to SF!

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