Brother, Let Me Be Your…. Friend

Brother, Let Me Be Your…. Friend

One Sunday morning as we were spilling out of the church doors, I spotted a friend I hadn’t seen in years—a college buddy I’d known long before I was married. I swooped across the courtyard and was met with one of the giant, warm hugs I remembered so well. Two seconds...
Orchard Memories

Orchard Memories

Margaret Philbrick spent many summers playing tag in the cherry and apple orchards of northern Wisconsin. Her friend Julie grew up on one of those orchards and her life experiences of harvest and loss inspired this story. ******* Like most things it started with one....
Practicing Vulnerability at Home

Practicing Vulnerability at Home

Sometimes vulnerability makes me squirm—particularly in my closest relationships and when the stakes are highest. This is ironic, considering that as an author, vulnerability is sort of my jam. Readers who’ve read my very personal memoir have shared their appreciation...
When God Opens a Closed, Metal Heart

When God Opens a Closed, Metal Heart

“You have to come and see Dad,” my sister, Peggy, said. “He’s dying.” My words were also to the point. “No. I ca…an’t.” Stuttering was something new for me. But I found I did it whenever I thought about my father. My words would just get as nervous as I...
The Enduring Flavors of Family Culture

The Enduring Flavors of Family Culture

Someone may see me in passing, take a glance, and ask, “Where do you come from?” Depending on my mood, I may answer, “I’m from Seattle,” then walk away. Or, if I feel like disclosing more information, I may answer, “My parents are from the Philippines, but I was born...

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