cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Heresy. This word is terrifying for those of us raised within strict religious environments, where straying from traditional doctrine can lead to judgment, suspicion, and even abandonment. I risk this everyday…all for the “sin” of trusting myself.
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My mother-in-law’s phone call appears on my screen on average five times a day. Ever since we moved her to a memory care facility, she has called begging to be transferred back to her home. My heart breaks to know that her progressing dementia will never allow her to live in her own home again.…
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My father and I argue about trees. I once had a beautiful red maple in my front yard. My husband and I envisioned it natural and towering, shading our bedroom from the fierce summer sun. When it was planted my oldest son hid secret notes in the hole to be buried among the roots. It…
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In honor of the tenth anniversary of Red Tent Living, we are featuring a monthly legacy post written by one of our regular contributors from the past decade. Mal Arnold first wrote for us in 2016 and became a regular in contributor in 2018. Her Latina voice is a profound gift to us all. This…
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Ours is a lineage of the road less traveled; the wild beyond and the risky unknowns; hope that propels forward buoyed by faith that remembers. She has led us through the years and courses through our veins. We are of the women throughout time and culture who have walked dusty plains, sailed turbulent seas, and…
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“You can take off your mask now and check your hair and your lips,” the photographer says as I get ready to take my headshots for work. Check my lips? Oh, right. Women wear lipstick. “My lips always look the same, so they should be fine,” I quip back. As I glance in the mirror, I…
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“The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Romans 8:26 I notice the black turtleneck as we meet. As we sit down, I hear her sigh deeply. She looks at me, eyes searching. Neither…
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Walking down the street in Portland, I was nervous, excited, and unsure about what to expect. Six weeks earlier, I had found the book Wild Feminine by Tami Lynn Kent. It had stopped me in my tracks and helped me to take the path less traveled. Now, I was in Portland waiting for my appointment…
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“The Woman in Red” can mean many things in our culture. She can be the woman that bears the shame of cultural stigmatization that comes with being female and feminine. The biologically associated monthly “red” cycle that reminds her that she is female. This cycle at various points in history was so stigmatized that some…
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I follow tears. Glistening eyes, quivering lips, red rising on cheeks. Clues on a path to story. A big, black circle on the map to the heart.
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