Hello Old Friends! I have missed writing to you here. Welcome to a new year, and what a threshold it is! Good morning to you from the baby-bluest, mistiest, chilliest, coziest dawn I’ve experienced this side of the Cascades. It reminds me of the early mornings by the sea, except it is not sand at my feet today but rather crunchy, frozen-twice-over, snow. I do not love the cold, but.. Read More
I’m at the threshold of a thing that on the other side of which I will likely want another 10 hours of talking late into the night and the early morning sitting somewhere waiting for the sun to rise. So, it seems right that at this threshold there is a pause, a moment in time to consider the path that has come before and all that lies beyond. I have.. Read More
Many a morning comes with cautionary tales, some of which are true. But true doesn’t always mean stop. We need the wisdom of perspective to let truth and mercy lead, especially when life comes to us as narratives that give pause. In the Psalms, Selah is a musical term often spoken of as a pause, it was meant for meditation. It is a call to depth over width. Maybe that.. Read More
And now for something completely different 🙂 — kinda. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my own poetry, and these days my poems take the shape of prayers, or at least help me find the way to deep heart prayers. I have hesitated so often in sharing these due to many voices who say heart prayer need be “nothing more” than simple cries, such as “help!”. I get that… Read More
The littlest was howling. He hurt his knee. He came running. Tucking himself next to me, he took my long skirt and draped it over his wound, holding it tight. Eyes closed tight too, unaware how he was warming my heart, he cuddled into my lap. That kind of smile that comes from deep down broke out all over my tired face. It comforted me that I could comfort him, even with.. Read More
I’ve been searching fierce for beauty for weeks now. Physically, halting for poetry and photo-taking of the dogwood trees. Drinking tea in the afternoon and listening to stories, watercoloring with my budding artists and stopping, to listen: this was my search party. My war-cry looked like words spilling out the poems that fill me up in the journals. I’ve been listening to the quiet and the breeze. I heard the.. Read More
It’s what the children know without an explanation or need for one. It’s what they don’t know too and why they need me to know it. Joy is a choice. The often cited “research” results that children laugh 400 times a day compared to the 17.5 times of an adult has been revealed as an urban myth. However, as a mom to several young children I can vouch that there.. Read More
Wouldn’t it be just the way of it? The morning I have this wonderful break-through thought, a certain breath from heaven kind-of-thought that transforms my affections and makes me ache with the longing to honor my God even as I cook breakfast for my family, all filling me up warm and bright inside—I burn the toast.
I don’t mean burn in the toaster kind-of-burn the toast, I mean, “Everybody open the windows before the fire alarm goes off!”, kind-…
When you transition from knowing your own writing voice only within the confines of personal journal pages and letters to family and friends out into the public domain, you wonder what it will be like. I’m only a couple of years into this experiment and here’s what it is like for me: freedom.
I’d written an article or two over the years that reached beyond my personal sphere but nothing like this last year. It feels vulnerable too, but that feeling pales in comparison to the joy of finding my walking legs after the work of crawling. The sense of freedom only enlarges when…
I see story written everywhere, in the earth, in the sky, in our exquisite form and functions, at the market and at the theatre, in scraped knees and scrapped lives, in triumph and pride, broken hearts and bent over limbs.
When I came upon this place, pictured, just a little ways from my home, it was the story of beauty being closer than I thought and inviting me in. I needed that and even still ached to absorb it, to believe it—in a practical way….