cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
As I reflect on Genesis 3:8, the word “hid” catches my attention, and a memory comes back to me from when I worked at an organization called Citizen Advocates. My job was to recruit local community members to become advocates for people who had developmental disabilities and no one in their lives to speak up…
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I try to remind myself not to look at my phone. It’s the countdown—two minutes, five minutes, twelve minutes, twenty-five minutes. and so on. The text turns blue, reads delivered. What I want is to be pursued, known, seen. I want my pain to matter to her.
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Thursday morning, I sat in my sunroom with my first cup of good coffee in what felt like a lifetime.
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