cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
As I reflect on Genesis 3:8, the word “hid” catches my attention, and a memory comes back to me from when I worked at an organization called Citizen Advocates. My job was to recruit local community members to become advocates for people who had developmental disabilities and no one in their lives to speak up…
Read More
I try to remind myself not to look at my phone. It’s the countdown—two minutes, five minutes, twelve minutes, twenty-five minutes. and so on. The text turns blue, reads delivered. What I want is to be pursued, known, seen. I want my pain to matter to her.
Read More
I was sitting at a desk that had been my husband’s, his Cross pen-set gone and the walls now void of his credentials and degrees. The circumstances that had unfolded in the months prior were difficult, to say the least. Mark had resigned and was engaging some much-needed Sabbath rest, and I had said yes…
Read More
The last few nights I have been sleep deprived. I squirm under my cozy covers in an attempt to relax, but my chest feels tight, as if my breath is constricted. My body is weary. I attempt to ease my mind, as anxiety-filled scenarios swirl around my head like an annoying replay. After a long…
Read More
“I am thinking now of grief, And of getting past it;
Read More