Don't Cry, Mishalariah: A Memoir

Jan 22, 2024

My story pivots on a journal entry in 1989 when I wrote to God about my broken dreams. But that was not the beginning. The tragic story started over a decade before, when I turned my back on God. Who knew unbelief had impeded my dreams? Who knew belief would make them come true? And who knew God’s dream was greater than them all?

Mishalariah. She knew.

Don't Cry, Mishalariah: Chapter One

Kim Hardy

Jan 4

Spirit sat hunched in the blue velvet chair with his back to the open doorway. Outside, in the darkness, it was pitch black. Inside, it was not much brighter. Golden sparks sporadically traversing the chamber walls were the only source of light. Well, that and the strange glowing disk that held Spirit’s rapt attention.

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Don't Cry, Mishalariah: Chapter Two

Kim Hardy

Jan 11

My first romance ended when Donnie died. It began five years before when I was twelve and he was fourteen. He was the most popular boy in our neighborhood, so I was ecstatic when he asked me to sit on the crossbar of his bike. His dark brown eyes were so dreamy. I melted as he moved in for a kiss. The sweetest kiss ever—though there was not much to com…

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Don't Cry, Mishalariah: Chapter Three

Kim Hardy

Jan 17

Mishalariah leaped onto her couch at the first sign of cold and drew her knees to her chin. She hugged her arms around her legs and watched in horror as the violent, bitter wind rushed in through the open door. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Is that you, Spirit?” she asked, shivering.

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Don't Cry, Mishalariah: Chapter Nine

Kim Hardy

Jan 18

It was like almost any other summer day. On July 11th, 1989, my dad tended the yard of my childhood home. He trimmed the six-foot boxwood hedges, shaping their sides into flat green planes. He mowed the city-sized plot of grass that once had been home to a swing set where my siblings, Cyndi, Denise, and Chucky, and I had competed to see who could prope…

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Don't Cry, Mishalariah: The Last Chapter

Kim Hardy

Jan 25

Don't Cry, Mishalariah: The Last Chapter

Behind the wheel, Tawmi was stoic, and the only sound was humming wheels on smooth pavement. I looked in the backseat. Sidnee was asleep. Her baby mouth hung open as her tiny chest rose and fell with each unlabored breath. And Sterling, at last left to his thoughts, sat mesmerized by the scenery that hurtled past his window. At 80 miles per hour, the bu…

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