cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Tonight, my thoughts are full of her. It has been seven months since my friend and colleague left. That summer night, as the sun was disappearing behind the basswood tree, the call came. I had finished mowing the lawn and noticed the white letters of a friend’s name across the black screen of my phone.…
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She was radiant. Ruby red lipstick, a thin gold chain around her neck, and hair touched with the slightest curl—the kind that only come when you’ve stopped trying to fabricate them.
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The musical score danced in my ears as I remained in the theater seat, soaking in every last note. Salty tears reflected my state of being over the previous two hours while I sat watching Little Women. My thoughts diverted as my mother’s friend approached me. Her smile preceded her question.
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During my tenth-grade year of high school, my best friend Brooke and I experienced the thrilling highs and devastating lows of dating relationships. Guys, at the time, were equally magical and unnerving, and we learned quickly that we needed a trustworthy gal pal to navigate the tricky waters of understanding guys. Together we made a…
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The conversation that evening was sweet, as much a contributor to the celebration as the sumptuous meal and quiet candlelight at a favorite restaurant. My friend wanted to hear what had been significant for me in the year that was finishing and what I was looking forward to in the year ahead. As the evening…
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There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love. 1 John 4:18 When I left for college, I experienced a major friendship shift. The people who had known me during adolescence were replaced with a whole college campus…
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How do you talk about the girl who is the beginning of every story you tell? The girl whom everyone seemed to experience similarly: intense, passionate, a bit wild, and fiercely loving. At least, that’s the theme that ran through every remembrance shared at her memorial last month. And that’s the girl etched in my…
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Last year, my friend Ted died from esophageal cancer. He was my seventh friend to die in seven years, and I was bereft.
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When I signed up last fall to host a Red Tent dinner, all I was sure of was my desire to step outside my comfort zone as I began to make plans for what the evening would look like.
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I’m not particularly self-contained when I am happy. “Graceful” would not be the word of choice. At my brightest moments, I tend to jump, bounce, giggle, fling, or shout.
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