I sat at the table on the lawn outside my door, the warm October breeze ruffling the pages of my journal as I filled page after page.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I sat at the table on the lawn outside my door, the warm October breeze ruffling the pages of my journal as I filled page after page.
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Her presence is just out of reach. I try to access her inside of my head, but I do not know where she is.
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We sat across the table from each other in a quaint hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant.
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Our first year of marriage wasn’t what I’m assuming many newlyweds experience.
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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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Thursday we moved our oldest son Tim to Chicago, where he will be student teaching this year in an urban high school – the culmination of his preparation for the calling he feels to teach in the inner city.
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Walking up the stairs towards the 4th grade classroom I take in the architecture and the smells of this old place, the large staircase with it’s carved handrail and the wooden door to the classroom feel like they belong in an old movie.
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One week after graduating from college, I met with a therapist for the first time.
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“Your world’s not falling apart, it’s falling into place. I’m on the throne, stop holding on and just be held.” –Casting Crowns
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It’s been three years now, almost to the day, and I still remember the fear, anxiety, and just plain dread that clouded that day.
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