Felicity (BA, MFA) is a poet, essayist, and writing instructor.
Most recently, her poem “At the Nadia Bolz-Weber Lecture” was published in the January 2016 issue of The Tishman Review.
Felicity lives in Omaha, Nebraska, with her children and husband.
… more follows, if you are still reading …
I’ve always loved my name. It means happiness. You can find it in British novels, and Meg Ryan says it in You’ve Got Mail. For me, it came from my dad who told it to my mom on their first date, which happened to be at Pizza Hut.
“If I have a daughter someday, I’m going to name her Felicity.”
He had recently seen an old-style Western movie. He might have been wearing the white bell bottom jeans I’ve seen in old photos, I’m not sure. In the film, a beautiful woman stepped off the stagecoach and someone in the dusty town asked, “Who’s that?” and someone else replied, “That’s Felicity.” I think my mom swooned when he described it and I know she decided right then that she was going to marry him. I’ve heard the story a million times. When I was born, she added the middle name Jo (after the Little Women heroine), and I’ve been lucky to live my forty-plus years in the beautiful birthright of the name they gave me together.
We’re faith people – from as far back as my grandma’s rancher father who gave up drinking at a Billy Sunday crusade and immediately started hauling his seven children to church every week over the rocky hills of northern California, and from a great-grandfather on my mom’s side they called Brother because he drove hours and hours in a tired-out car to preach the Bible and sing hymns in white clapboard church buildings throughout rural Illinois and Missouri. Countless stories in between have paved a clear path of believing for me. I’ve had to grow into it, of course, make it my own, but I’m happy to say that most often it has been very well with my soul.
I married a preacher’s son. Dan and I have four perfectly imperfect kids: Jesse Daniel, Claire Felicity, Ada Jewel, and Macy Cheri. We also remember Claire’s twin sister, Ellery Blythe, who died shortly after their premature birth (read a version of their birth story here). We are thankful for our faith in a beautiful life beyond this broken one. We rely on that truth even while we don’t understand exactly what it means.
We live in Omaha, Nebraska. You should visit sometime – it might be the greatest little city you’ve never heard of.
I also occasionally listen to sports radio.
I wouldn’t want you to think you had me all figured out.