cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I hunched down in my uncomfortable bucket seat on Chicago’s commuter train heading to the suburbs. Unfortunately, I’d picked one of the few actually facing other passengers. Tears sliding down my face, I was embarrassed, so I tried to make myself even smaller, hiding in layers of winter clothing. A young woman next to me…
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I remember first noticing that my feelings about women’s Bible studies had slowly been changing after I’d just finished hosting a different sort of gathering in my home. While having the obligatory post-processing session with my patient husband, I realized I wasn’t working through or, frankly, complaining about what had or hadn’t been said. It was…
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My third daughter asked me to be on standby to attend the delivery of her first child, mostly because she was worried about her husband, and his ability to remain upright. As a newborn nurse, she’s seen plenty of greenish fathers-to-be, so my husband and I parked ourselves in the nondescript hospital labor waiting room…
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