cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Recently, we attended parties celebrating milestones achieved by dear friends. One will attend Christian college after graduating high school; one begins a first job after competing as a student-athlete for another Christian school. Posted on our refrigerator, the invitations were reminders—not just of party dates, but also of pain we are navigating as parents. …
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Hushed words seize power, Veiled whispers shatter safety, The desire to wilt. Yet, strength blooms in twilight’s veil, Anchored in embracing Light. Heather Medley is a woman who is learning to be present and kind to herself and to the people she loves. She is drawn to engage her world with hope of restoration and…
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I want to be the sanctuary. I want to be Rivendell, where wanderers heal. I want to be Narnia, where everything sad comes untrue. I want to be the riverside, where you study war no more. I want to be the mirror, where you see yourself beloved. I am a human woman, and my latitude…
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“What if you try stretching your arms out in front of you to feel the walls of your space? Feel how much space you physically take up,” my therapist suggests as she demonstrates with her arms freely outstretched around her.
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Decades ago, I went grocery shopping after the funeral of a dear friend who had died much too young and way too swiftly. His tragic death left one of my closest friends without a partner and their young children without a father. Arriving home after the funeral, I was anxious, emotionally untethered, and in need…
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I put it off for as long as I possibly could—the slimming down and organization of our fourth bedroom. We established it as the playroom when we moved in with our little girls six years ago, but I was finally accepting that, at ages 15 and 12, they were doing far less playing than ever…
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Dear Baby, I only knew you existed for 48 hours. While our time together was brief, your impact was not. You proved my heart could expand to love someone I never met. You proved I was ready for motherhood. I never heard your beating heart, but you changed mine forever. Love, Mama
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I’ve spent my life surrounded by people telling me the word “gospel” means “God’s good news.” Yet Jesus’ first words as he began his gospel ministry—“Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand”—didn’t prompt the kind of comfort and joy my friends described. For as long as I can remember, I understood Christ’s words to…
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I am familiar with goodbyes. I said goodbye to my innocence at 4-years-old. From ages 4 to 12, I buried my voice in an effort to extinguish the ongoing abuse and survive. By age 13 I had learned that my sadness engendered pity and my sexuality, attention. Male parents for whom I babysat groped for…
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We were newlyweds, in our first apartment, performing the dreaded church-shopping. We visited nearby churches, each one similar to the ones I attended as a child. Pews, pianos, choirs. They were sparsely attended, and though it was obvious we were visitors, very few people greeted us. So we moved on. I had heard of a…
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