cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
My mother-in-law’s phone call appears on my screen on average five times a day. Ever since we moved her to a memory care facility, she has called begging to be transferred back to her home. My heart breaks to know that her progressing dementia will never allow her to live in her own home again.…
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Back from an elongated, dreamy time of rest, colleagues want the highlight reel and the curious want the story.Typically, I’m challenged to distill epic into bullet points, but not this time. There is a story to tell even as it still works out meaning in my heart.
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I enter college a relatively new Christian, having come to faith in a para-church youth ministry deeply connected to a reformed church. I am a conservative evangelical by default. It’s all I know, therefore it is all that makes sense. That first year, upon visiting a campus Presbyterian church I feel discomfort that a woman…
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On Fridays Asha is at home with me. We stay in pajamas and linger together as I drink several cups coffee. Asha and I play, navigating our steps through scattered crayons layered with paper, toys, and stickers. Asha’s young presence is remarkably jovial and peaceful. As we play, I find myself falling in love with…
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An enthusiastic teeny-bopper still dwells in a substantial corner of my heart. She used to tight-roll her jeans, wear scrunchies in her hair, create dance routines to Paula Abdul, and hang New Kids on the Block posters in her bedroom.
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