Growing up, bedtime at the Brummond house was quite an extensive ritual. After we took a bath, my mom would let my brother and I pick out three books each that she would read to us before tucking us in. One such book that sticks out in my memory is Happy Adoption Day, a short children’s book based on a song. The lyrics to the chorus were something like this:
Stories of Grace: Finding Grace Through Adoption
Topics: pro-life, stories of grace, adoption
I wanted to be common like bread:
so when the struggle came she wouldn’t find me missing.
These lines from Pablo Neruda’s poem “Nothing More” were etched on a plaque, as a tribute to my late father, Denny, by a close friend of his. It hung on the wall of their local watering hole where my dad had gathered often with friends, colleagues, and strangers to recount the day or sometimes to forget it.
Topics: death, human dignity, stories of grace, All Souls
Stories of Grace: Ballet, Brokenness, and Building a Home
Twirling and leaping across the floor, I almost laughed out loud with the joy of doing what I love. I am a ballerina. Now, to be clear, I’m no professional—I gave up those aspirations long ago. I stopped doing pointe work after high school. I’ve only seen a few ballets in person. But ever since my first class as a toddler, ballet has been one of my greatest passions, an activity I pursue simply because I love doing it. For me, ballet will always be an art form in which I feel at home.
Topics: stories of grace
In every piece of music, there are changes. The tempo speeds up, the pitch drops down, smooth notes become choppy, and after a loud crescendo comes a blissful and quiet release. If music is a journey, then my life story in music could be a symphony.
Topics: stories of grace
The morning light eased its way along the streets of Rome in a gradual awakening. I too ambled around the streets, enjoying my first morning in the city on my own. Now I’m sure I took the least efficient route, but eventually I arrived at Santa Maria Maggiore, the Basilica of Mary Major. The impressive white façade dominated the scene, and the interior was no less grand: rows of enormous marble pillars flanked the sides and intricate gold coffers covered the ceiling. My eyes couldn’t absorb enough of its splendor.
Topics: stories of grace