cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
These words sound otherworldly, carrying the sense of the sacred. Many of us were raised in traditions which include the eucharist, or communion. Some folks enter that space every month, some every week. For some, it is a shared table, some approach one by one, some wait for a plate to be passed, others wait…
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The first time I heard the words ”comfort zone” was in my Sunday school class back in the late 1970’s. It was presented to me in the context that if I was living in that zone I was most likely not risking for Jesus. I remember feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable just sitting there as those…
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Are you done yet? A girl sits at the table alone. Food long grown cold. Fourteen peas sit on her plate, one for each year. They look up at her, grey-green in all their pitiful canned mockery of a pea. “You can’t make me eat them.” And so she sat, caught in a war of…
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“Hey, Mimi, I read your book.” I was slightly caught off guard as I began to wonder what prompted my 17-year-old grandson to be reading my book at this time of his life. My mind swirled a bit as I speculated as to where this casual conversation may take us.
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There is a reality that I have tried to avoid for well over 40 years. It is not one that I asked for but one that simply is.
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As I decorated for Christmas this year, I cleaned and put up the lights, mason jars of holly and frosted tree branches thinking about the juxtaposition of all the places my heart could choose to land.
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