cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
At my dermatologist’s office, I focus on the smell of the Sharpie she is using to circle areas of concern. As a skin cancer doctor in the Sunshine State, she is trained with a meticulous eye to incise and biopsy anything that is not an A+ mole. While I’m thankful for her fastidious care, this…
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My tears remained hidden behind a set of cheap sunglasses as I strolled through Target, passing newborn moms relieved to be out of the house. Equipped with Ergos, bottles, and pacifiers, they strolled precious, wide-eyed babies in bright red grocery carts secured with cushioned cart covers. Several of my friends had recently announced they were…
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“All you need to remember is how it sounded when you stood in the place of death and heard the living call your name.” – Jan Richardson After several trusted friends recommended it, I sat down for the first episode of The Chosen. The series begins in 2 B.C. with young Mary in Magdala. Frightened and…
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The long trek from the maternity ward to the NICU requires a wheelchair and a hospital transporter. Michael has just left for a few hours to check on our two- and four-year-old daughters, who are at home and can’t meet their baby sister. I feel the shift as we roll from a floor of lactation…
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Shards of glass shoot toward my protective eye goggles as I hear my husband grunt “Arrhhhh” as he swings a metal crowbar towards a 1970s beveled vase. I notice the nerves in the left side of my neck and a headache forming above my eye. My body is starting to slow down, and I feel…
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“The irony of man’s condition is that the deepest need is to be free from the anxiety of death; but it is life itself that awakens it, and so we must shrink from being fully alive.” — Ernest Becker I have been struck recently by some people’s freedom to talk about death. The number of recessed…
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“I know she is capable of offering deep care, but there are moments when I don’t feel she actually listens to me,” my husband Michael says to our marriage counselor. I smile nervously at the irony that he’s married to a professional counselor who at times struggles with listening.
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Lottie Hillard wrote an article called “The Shame of Needing” that could have been written about me. Fifteen years ago when I was in graduate school for counseling, I recall one of the advisors saying that my shame was gregarious. I carried an air of confidence, moving in relationships with classmates and clients with charm and…
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“Take a deep breath and fill your belly with air, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Ally gently guides us through a trauma-informed yoga practice. I notice the rubber mat beneath me and the earth holding me. I am gathered with eight women fighting to find goodness in our bodies, vessels that…
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Bagpipes resounded “Amazing Grace” as the June rain pounded the roof of St. Paul’s Presbyterian Church. After the bridesmaids processed in pale pink tea dresses to the tune of “Canon in D,” the large wooden doors shut. Thunder clapped, marking the redemption of this day, the many dark chapters of our stories now expanding and…
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