cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
It all looks the same. Fields split wide open, clusters of rusting cars and square houses bending with the weight of the earth. Buttes appear in the distance, but I can’t seem to get close. A hazy sky mutes the miles, and dry dust kicks up behind the tires of my Jeep Wrangler. Along stretches…
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On that day, Yahweh made a covenant with Abram. Pilgrims travel, not because they believe God lies ahead somewhere, but because they know God is beneath their feet. Or at least they’re suspicious of it. A pilgrim once told me, before she left the trees of Mamre, “Yahweh is in the flesh beneath your chest, which you…
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