brianna persinger

faith | culture | motherhood

The Archives

  • Interruptible.

    Interruptible.

    Interruptions. The word came to mind on my drive to work during my third trimester. I noticed a man on the side of the road who needed help. I was running behind, so I kept driving. I justified myself, “If only I had time, I could stop and help him. What a shame.”  No sooner…

  • The dishes don’t change.

    The dishes don’t change.

    I gripe about washing dishes. My cozy home does not house a dishwasher, so coming to the sink is a slow and necessary act. As I fill the sink, more than once a day, I think about the “more important” things I could be doing. Should be doing. And before I even realize what I’m…

  • The sentence that changed the way I teach.

    The sentence that changed the way I teach.

    One of the 4th graders in the after-school classroom asked me to help with his homework. “Sure, no problem,” I told him, thinking it would be easy. My math might be a bit rusty, but surely I could manage well enough to help with a single homework page.  He pulled out the worksheet and my…

  • Accept the mess.

    Accept the mess.

    Travis and I have been refinishing the hardwood in our home this summer. It’s been a long process of moving furniture and sanding and vacuuming and scraping and sanding again and curing and waiting and maneuvering narrow pathways in the hallway.  I knew what I was getting into from the first moment he peeled back…