From practice, I’m learning to take the next step forward after hovering in the kind of moments that threaten to stop my heart from pain. I now have behind me a little history of doing the next thing right when it seems the most impossible.
Blog
Crisis, Fatigue, Rilke, Prayer
It’s awkward to walk about so undone inside, sure that my inward raggedness is displayed on my face, in my skin, in my new gray hairs.
Something Wildly More
Beauty, too, exists wildly in excess of a survival paradigm. The fact that humans yearn for beauty, recognize it, understand instinctually that it is a force that exists both within and outside of ourselves, seek to create it, seek to capture it—why is that?
Piles (or What I’m Reading)
I can’t do without my piles. With my husband’s influence, I’ve mended my pack-rat ways in most areas, but don’t ask me to part with my books.
Adeste Fidelis
Come and see. Come with your doubting in your throat and your last slip of hope tattered by harsh winds. Come see if this outrageous story you deep-down wish could be true—God come down to you, to me— can be the light that dispels your darkness, can even make you light in the darkness.
The Truest Thing I Know
That letter opened up a life-giving dialogue. We were set free to be who we are with each other, no masks.
I Didn’t Want To Be That White Woman
I hesitated. Was I right or wrong?
Like a Refugee (sort of)
We stashed backpacks of essentials in our bathtub and pulled the curtain to hide them, hoping we could run into the room and hide if people started forcing their way into our home.
What did you leave behind?
Is it possible to find “home” when you move over and over again? What if “home” has nothing to do with our passport country?
Paradox, Part III: Death Leads to Life
It is a slow death—a secret calcifying of parts of our hearts and souls; it is another form of grief.