Amy Wright Glenn


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A little boy’s tears

I watch a family play soccer at a nearby park. On the surface, it’s a beautiful sight. Mother, father, and sons kick a black and white ball around. The boys laugh. The parents do some fancy foot work, evoking more laughter. I smile. From my vantage point, I occasionally hear snippets of conversation. “Great kick honey.” “I got you this time.” “Here dad, the ball is yours!” Then at one point, the youngest son dives to pick up the ball…

  • October 4, 2016
  • By Amy Wright Glenn

In this circle no fear

In this circle, no fear In this circle, deep peace In this circle, great happiness In this circle, safety  We gathered by the sea. Women who hold space for thresholds. Women who hold the hands of the birthing and the dying.  We gathered to learn, share, inspire, restore. Through yoga, meditation, open discussion, and deep listening, we emerged transformed. The Institute for the Study of Birth, Breath, and Death is powerful. It is radiant with life. Enjoy these photos from our October…

  • October 13, 2015
  • By Amy Wright Glenn

Missing Grandma: Meditations on My Mother’s Mental Illness

Today, my mother-in-law arrives. My husband’s mother visits every four to five months. Her soft blouses predictably sport cheerful, butterfly designs. She enjoys drinking a cold Stella beer and walking barefoot in the backyard of our south Florida home. Her beautiful, white hair shines in the sun. She loves to read to our two-year-old boy Taber. He calls her “Nana.” Read more.  

  • December 3, 2014
  • By Amy Wright Glenn

Coming Home: Transforming Pain and Embracing Beauty

I stand with my son in northern Utah. Together we harvest raspberries in my aunt’s backyard. Mountain foothills blanketed in fall colors surround her home. A late September chill fills the air. I could stare at these mountains for hours. I draw upon the memory of their strength when I am away from this land of my birth. My soul drinks in their beauty. I didn’t realize I was so thirsty. Nothing else signals my return home as much as…

  • December 3, 2014
  • By Amy Wright Glenn

Cancer at Christmas: Reflections on Gratitude and Hope

It’s a quiet day in the hospital. My footsteps echo down the cold, clean corridor. I pass the gift shop and notice red and green tinsel decorations signifying the season of celebration and light. As a chaplain, I witness people grieve, love, heal, and die. How to wrestle with the reality of the body’s fragility – of the body’s inevitable date with death – at a time when so much of the world celebrates a joyful birth? The juxtaposition between…

  • December 3, 2014
  • By Amy Wright Glenn

The Hard Heart of Parenting

My body tenses. Teeth clench. Heart hardens. I don’t hurt him. I don’t yell. Yet, my heart hardens with frustration. My agenda to clothe my two-year-old collides with his interest in remaining naked. He wants to play with his trucks on the bedroom floor; I have a morning adventure planned. After several attempts to wrestle him into some clothes, he runs out of the room crying “No!” My son says “Stop!” and “No!” frequently these days. He even asserts his…

  • December 3, 2014
  • By Amy Wright Glenn