You have permission... To find hope in the holidays. To relish each merry moment you can muster — the sacredness of lit candles, the comfort of reunions with friends and relatives, the bliss of giving and receiving.
I love it when the clouds are painted cotton candy pink . . .
Something miraculous and mysterious happens when we voice our stories — we give others permission to claim theirs too.
Standing across from you in our college chapel, I feel more than luck. I feel fluttering in my chest — not fear or nerves, rather, an awakening.
I’ve been Alice, // cradling close the lifelong pain // of a childhood accident, // startling
Sunlight slices through the night, washing the world in color.
Why do cicadas hum? / Why do chickadees whistle? / Why do coyotes cock their heads and howl / in the vast darkness?
At the start of 2021, I chose "light" as my word of the year. 2020 had been a heavy year for our family. I needed a word that evoked levity, joy, hope.
She used to race, Nikes flashing across worn asphalt, Lakefront wind slicing against her, heart pounding, flying free.She swam, limbs threading Lake Michigan's rough, cool waters, gulping air, rocketing herself forward, weightless. Back then, she measured her worth with numbers: pounds, pace, calories. Afraid of everything and nothing. She once saved two men from drowning.Nearly … Continue reading My body, a wonder
Call it foolish, call it futile, / say flamboyant if you dare. / As for me, I’ll call it radiance,