cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
From the moment she and her mom walked into my office I wondered if she deserved more of a professional than me or more tenderness than I felt like I was able to offer. I felt like she could’ve been me had some things gone differently in my life. We started by talking about her…
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Tears trickled down my cheeks as I walked with a slight limp out of the physical therapist’s office. It was over. I had to quit. I wouldn’t accomplish my goal. Not only was I devastated, but I needed to tell my best friend and running partner, and disappoint her as well. The goal was to…
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The truth is like a lion: let it loose and it will defend itself. —Saint Augustine Autumn leaves crunch under my feet like a forbidden Kit Kat bar. And yet I keep walking—far away from the noise of the day. I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to feel. I want to heal. Scars on…
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Spanish flowed from my aunt and uncle’s lips like honey on a summer afternoon. As Latin music blared from the stereo, my family would gather together, their hips and feet gliding in perfect rhythm. The scent of pernil lingered in the air as boisterous laughter filled every nook and cranny of the house. A smile…
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*This is one of the scariest things I’ve written, still not knowing if they are words of offense or healing. I’ve decided to risk mucking this up in favor of honestly embracing my failure and acknowledging my hope for personal change. Lord help me. I am in a Tennessee locker room in 6th grade when…
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All transformation requires disruption. And it seems to me that no one changes because it’s a good idea.
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