The truth is, I’ve always ached to love and be loved, but I wrestle with loving myself. Hearing my own melody helped me see my innate holiness — made in God’s image, blessed and broken, sinner and saint.
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.
Sunlight slices through the night, washing the world in color.
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.
Call it foolish, call it futile, / say flamboyant if you dare. / As for me, I’ll call it radiance,
Where can we get a baby? / my son asks, his blue eyes piercing / in the morning's heel.
One of my favorite Bible stories is that of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb. Her grief still fresh and sharp, she believes a visit to Jesus’ burial site promises a private space to mourn. But when Mary arrives, the stone has been rolled away. The perfume still lingers, but the grave is empty, save … Continue reading Eyes for Easter
It’s my birthday. As I write, I am wondering what wisdom I have to share after 35 revolutions 'round the sun. Probably something about motherhood or paying attention. Or how to listen, how to make peace with your body, how to spot a seed of faith in a field of doubt. Those are essays I’ll write someday,