cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
When I was growing up, basements were a place to put things that no longer had value. Basements were the place in homes where you spent the least amount of time. They became a container for keeping stuff out of sight and out of mind. The things which once held value would be forgotten and…
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The wounded healer arrives on the scene not a moment too soon or too late. She is ready and anchored in the flow of love to lean into the other’s deep pain. She heals with her eyes, her heart, and her hands, using words of comfort and care. She knows how it feels to be…
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It is late and my house is quiet. The lights on the Christmas tree give the only glow to the room. Christmas Eve is only a few hours away.
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It is the season of lights.
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