It Was an Ugly Couch Anyway: And Other Thoughts on Moving Forward

by Elizabeth Passarella

the heart has plumbing and electricity. Cardiologists are the plumbers. Electrophysiologists are the electricians.

The whole crux of the Christian faith is that we cannot save ourselves. This is meant to be good news, although for people like me, who pride ourselves on being supremely capable, it feels irritating at times. Even when I have a win—I succeed at being gentle with my child! I forgive someone who hurt me, despite the fact that I really didn’t want to! I am humble for a few minutes in my day!—I know that I can’t fix the brokenness inside me or overcome my own sin. For people who don’t share my faith, this sounds totally depressing, I know. And entire self-help sections of bookstores tell you otherwise. I know this too. For some reason it is easier to believe that we can muscle our way to better, more fulfilled selves, rather than accept that we are hopelessly flawed and all of those efforts are going to be temporary. It doesn’t mean we are idiots. Or weaklings. We know the phone number. We stay on the block when we are lost. We use the tools God gave us: brains and senses of humor. But ultimately, we cannot always find our way back when we are lost. He has to come get us.

Her love is always quiet and steady.

But it’s also the wildness of the place. Unlike the skinny strip of sand between the condos and the water on the Gulf Coast, the beaches of Isle of Palms or Kiawah or Sullivan’s are so vast, my children become specks in the distance within minutes. When the tide goes out, it feels like you could walk to the horizon. The water isn’t blue, but it’s earnest, formidable. Nothing is tame or precious on the Atlantic Coast. The wind is usually too strong for an umbrella, but it also keeps you comfortable, even on the hottest days. My kids drag driftwood and bleached, papery reeds across the sand to make borders for houses or flags for castles. Unless you are near Myrtle Beach, there are few high-rises, just dunes with grass sprouting from them,

as a woman who is simultaneously parenting a middle schooler and a preschooler, I will take middle school any day of the week. The bigger problems are more interesting. The payout is richer.