cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I have had an ambivalent relationship with practice. The word alone conjures up many feelings. First, my eleven years of piano lessons were wrought with more pain than pleasure. Many hours my body yearned to have been running, bicycling, or playing sports, but I was living in an era when piano lessons were more common…
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A friend recently invited me to a talk at her church about keeping faith during difficult times. I had a work conflict so I could not attend, but I commented, “I could give that talk.” “Oh, yeah,” she responded. Nine months after my friend Jim died, I gave a retreat talk on gratitude. I shared…
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Friend? I would be less than honest if I didn’t say that the word “friend” provokes both terror and tenderness in my heart.
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