It’s a strange thing to read your own memoirs, even when you are the one who wrote them. Last Friday, I ironically finished my final round of proofreads in the very hotel we stayed when Caleb, our oldest, was in a coma after his rollover accident. Everything about Friday was surreal: wrapping up a very […]
Hotel Chicken Wings and Teary Thresholds Read More »
Several weeks ago, a friend was sharing about a book she’d been reading and describing the gorgeous cover in great detail: the layered mountains, the deep blue sky, and a spectacular eagle soaring over the peaks. Just as she mentioned the soaring eagle, I randomly glanced out our living room window, only to witness a
It’s been a year and a half since we moved to the mountains. Fairly quickly, my husband and I fell into an easy rhythm. We awake before sunrise, make our coffee, and spend the dark morning hours reading side-by-side in our chairs. Eventually, when the sun’s rays grow too glaring to continue reading comfortably, I
Darkness: My Teacher, My Friend Read More »
A well-known author once said the worst reason to write a book is to save yourself. Maybe she’s right. But in hindsight, that’s why I wrote mine. I was groping around blindly in the dark, vomiting, then deleting word after word, struggling to rephrase them in the most true way. Somehow in the process, I
My “Heartbreaking, Soul-Healing, Amazing, Awful, Ordinary Life” Read More »
I recorded my second podcast yesterday with two delightful kindred spirits, and today, I surprisingly awoke with a sore soul. Like the day after a round of heavy weightlifting, I plopped down in my chair early this morning and was instantly reminded of the old soul-wounds I hadn’t felt for quite some time, the ones
*This blog was written by a guest writer, who, despite my most earnest cajoling, has remained firm in their desire to remain anonymous. It’s the morning after the hailstorm. Tending to a garden full of broken plants, talking to them—broken and bedraggled—cleaning up all of the shredded stems, petals, and leaves, and saying, “You’ll be
I’ve always wondered whether it’s possible for someone to feel beautiful, but not pretty. The word occurs to me in a different way as I’m driving this morning. Beauty-full. Full of beauty. Beautiful is a state of being, whereas pretty is simply external. Perhaps this epiphany is old news to everyone except me, but as
Beautiful but Not Pretty Read More »
I sat in my car yesterday morning, mindlessly staring out my window at the elementary school playground and waiting for my daughter to emerge from our local coffee shop with two steaming morning lattes. Involuntarily, my eyes focused in on a mother walking her son into school—hand in hand. At once, my chest constricted, and
The Wild (but Glorious) Edge of Sorrow Read More »
Several years ago, it occurred to me that I was living a life I did not wish to be living. I was stressed, angry, and completely un-peaceful. I was constantly frantically rushing, driven by the confines of time as dictated by my calendar. In short, my life felt out of control, or, in other words,
To REspond or DEspond? That is the Question. Read More »
Every day I pick up the kids from their new mountain school (it’s K-12 and maybe 300 students?), I pass a massive carcass decomposing along the side of the road. Maybe a cow or a bear? I’m not sure. But the thing I find fascinating—and oh-so- delightful—is that it’s remained on there long enough to
Guts and Poop and Gray Hair…Oh My! Read More »
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