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A chilly fall morning at one of our state parks. It reminds me to pause and take a deep breath.
The Las Vegas shooting has left me stunned, angry, sad, and frustrated. Maybe you feel the same way. The depth of evil displayed there is hard to fathom. So many precious lives lost, so many others scarred forever.
I was thinking about what to write today when I came across a post by...
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Think about a painting or photograph that you like. What do you like about it? Is it the subject matter, the story it seems to tell, or the skill of the artist? The colors in the Dallas Kinney photo grabbed me. It made me want to be there, to walk through that grove myself...
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Every time I visit the local food pantry, I walk in and out with a lump in my throat. People in my community—people everywhere—are hungry. Little children have empty tummies. Parents wonder ...
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Last Sunday afternoon, I spent an hour and 17 minutes stuck in the back of a taxicab, trying to get from the airport to my hotel. Three big events in the city combined with roadwork, road closings, and quadrillions of people converged into one huge mess. Welcome to New York...
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I’ve been out of town the last few days. Although I didn't write a regular post, I thought I’d share this photo with you from yesterday morning. I didn’t realize until after I took it that the design of the water is so sharp and clear. Hope you enjoy it. I'll be back with a new post on Thursday.
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My mom, my sister, and me.
Today’s post won’t be a regular one, because today is the anniversary of my dad’s passing. It's been a few years since we said good-bye. I’m grateful that I can still hear him saying my name...
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Imagine that you and I met for tea or coffee one day. As you walk into the coffee shop, the rich aroma that you love greets you. You see that the line is blessedly short, the barista greets you with a friendly smile, and the sun is shining through the window...
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Wild curls from mid-summer humidity. Dirt on my feet from the playground and a cherry Kool-Aid stain on my dress. I was in my element in preschool class at church.
Mrs. Weaver, her straight hair pulled neatly into a bun, gathered us around her. “Okay, children. Let’s sing that new song we learned last week. Remember?"
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