Author: Rhonda Schrock

Updates

Jan 11, 2025

The proper use of “what if”

This essay was first published on The Daily BS on Jan. 4, 2025. As a grain-fed, pigtailed girl growing up on the Plains, I devoured books. Summers on the scorching,

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Jan 03, 2025

On New Year’s Eve, resolve this–know your name

This essay was first published on The Daily BS on December 28, 2024. What a year it’s been. With a fractious election, a red tidal wave, and now, Christmas in

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Dec 27, 2024

When you can’t go home at Christmas, there’s adoption

In a long-ago time, in a faraway land, darkness descends. The lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep steal o’er the countryside. The murmur of hay beneath hooves falls

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Dec 20, 2024

Everyone has a story

It’s a cold and wintry day. The last half inch of coffee in the mug has grown cold. Here in the quiet office, I remember it as though it was

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Dec 14, 2024

How the small can climb mountains

This essay was first published on December 7, 2024, on The Daily BS. It came to me on a cold, winter day. Christmas break had come and, with it, the

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Dec 12, 2024

At every age and stage, our lives have meaning

This essay first appeared on The Daily BS on November 30, 2024. Recently, I was thinking over the big projects that are looming on the horizon. After the ball drops

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Dec 12, 2024

Square pegs in a round-hole world

This essay was first published on The Daily BS on November 23, 2024. It was his senior year. Graduation was approaching with its whirlwind of activities, and that son of

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Nov 23, 2024

A mother’s secret weapon

This essay first appeared on The Daily BS on November 16, 2024. One of our sons has just returned home from a months-long assignment. After graduating last year, he spent

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Nov 21, 2024

Carrying each other ‘forward,’ conquering fear

This essay appeared on The Daily BS on November 9, 2024. It happened on a gorgeous September night. The starter’s gun fired, and hundreds of running feet took to the

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Sep 05, 2024

Carrying each other ‘forward’

It happened on a gorgeous September night. The starter’s gun fired, and hundreds of running feet took to the course. The pack was running fast. Standing at a break in

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