cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I watched from the car. First a trickle, then a stream, and finally, a sea of maroon-and-gray plaid poured from the elementary building as I patiently waited in the carpool line. How many times had I strained to find my daughter amid the end-of-the-school-day chatter? I learned years ago that my best chance of locating…
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Making Room for the Villain The radiologist pointed, “Right there, see the dark spot? I don’t like what I’m seeing.” There it was, right of center on the screen, nestled in bright white digital breast tissue on the screen. The spot was dark and sinister, like a burn hole on a white couch. Its’ edges…
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Under fluorescent lights, my doctor gently massages my breast tissue as I lie on a metal cot. Two months ago, I started having pain in my breasts. I put it off, thinking it was due to holding plank postures in my new cardio-yoga routine. “But you need to get a mammogram,” my mother urged. “You…
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Unless you air your laundry, divorce in the church is as isolating as a child’s temper tantrum during the Sunday morning service. When my husband of 27 years suddenly and unexpectedly left, it was weeks before my large-church-pastors noticed I was missing from Sunday morning services. And even weeks more before someone called to check…
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I walked into my doctor’s office, ready for a frank conversation about the side effects of the Tamoxifen she had prescribed to prevent a future recurrence of breast cancer.
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