cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
“I see you!” Her four-year-old sing-song voice announces she has won yet another round of hide-and-seek. She pounces on me, and both of us roll to the floor in a heap of giggles. “I see your tears. The worst you have imagined is happening,” I observe gently. The young woman’s eyes meet mine. Tears spill…
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My mother hated my first book. Shortly after it was published, her sister asked to meet with me, and observed that the woman who wrote it was very angry. I believe my aunt was quite surprised when I agreed with her. I remember the morning well.
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I did it. My head spun in a disoriented fog. My limbs trembled with weakness. I felt sick to my stomach and my heart felt as though a boulder was sitting upon it. Everything within me screamed at the top of my I-can-barely-breathe lungs and I wondered if maybe curling up and actually dying would…
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I am hypersensitive and therefore unable to take in much news or social media. As much as I want to be educated about what is happening in the world, I have learned that the best way I can be a part of the solution to the problems that are breaking open all around is to…
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I awoke just before 5 a.m. with the heart crushing anxiety I have become acquainted with in this season. I used to curse it and fight against it, but I am learning to embrace it. I put my hand on my racing heart and gently said “welcome.” As I sat in meditation my heart continued…
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Here’s the truth: no one is harder on me than me.
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