The humidity greets me with a sticky embrace as I step outside onto my back porch in Austin. I question whether to turn and walk back into my office. No, I need to breathe something other than air-conditioned air this morning.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
The humidity greets me with a sticky embrace as I step outside onto my back porch in Austin. I question whether to turn and walk back into my office. No, I need to breathe something other than air-conditioned air this morning.
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The door opens. A home screen. A blank document. A blinking cursor. A vast red tent. An expansive table. A seat for me. “Friendship” reads the place card. The host invites me, “Tell us a story.” And so I do.
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Endings can feel like death, but they also hold so much hope if you remain present in the tension of the liminal space they create. My son moved out of our home last week. He spent a year with us after his college graduation, which was a gift of unexpected time. As I headed home…
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Stretching my legs in the gas station parking lot somewhere along I-70 East, I had never felt so lost in my entire life. Not lost in terms of directions. Lost on a deeper level. Age 24 and along for the ride as my parents headed to a week on the Atlantic Ocean with both of…
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An outdated Chromebook sits atop my lap. A warning appears just before the screen turns black. Jiggling the charger, I turn it slightly counterclockwise, hoping for enough connection to power the laptop on once again. For years, this laptop has required a power cord to operate, as it’s unable to function on battery alone. Seated…
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I wrote for Red Tent Living for almost exactly eight years before ever meeting Tracy Johnson in person. We had, of course, communicated via email, but I did not have the opportunity to spend time with her in “real life” until I attended the Sacred Interruption retreat in Knoxville last October. I was deep in…
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I’ve not yet had the opportunity to go dress shopping and choose “the perfect dress” or plan a celebration of love and commitment to the wild and kind man whom I will one day call my best friend. These are hopes and longings of mine that have been threaded into the deep tapestry of my…
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About a year ago, my literary soulmate, Bridget, who had moved away, was struggling. A close friend of ours, Julie, was facing a cancer recurrence, and the prognosis was grim. Torn about returning for a visit, she recalled a quiche she had once made that Julie had loved—it was the only thing Julie could eat…
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I AM RADIANT, VIBRANT, AND MAGNETIC. These are the tender, yet bold, and, honestly, very necessary words a beloved friend strategically taped to my desk when I wasn’t looking. I’m in a season where the language I use to talk about who I am, my personality, and my strengths and weaknesses feels like it can…
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Seven years ago the four of us sat in our new living room talking. My husband and I had just had dinner with our longtime friends and counselors, Tracy and Mark Johnson. I’m not sure how it got brought up, but we were talking about how much I love writing and how much (since becoming…
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