On the good days I fear that I’ll get sucked back under, churned wild under the waves, like a spin cycle set to run too long agitating me this way and that. I feared it when I was jubilant and every good thing was like low hanging fruit, so ripe and easy to pluck from the branches, heavy with worth and promise. I fear the fall. Sometimes hope terrifies me. I’m not supposed to say that. It seems contrary to all the good things like faith and promise and trusting God. Here’s the funny thing. I …
joy
My One Word for 2016: Enjoy
Yesterday, I got a package in the mail from a friend I met through this blog. We’ve chatted a few times in person and now I put a face and voice to the comments she leaves on my blog posts. There are literally hundreds of connections that have been made through this space. Spilling words and stories for the last 4 years, I’ve made some heart-deep friendships. In some ways it seems like I’ve done this forever and in other ways, I’d have thought I’d know more, been further, had my book written, …
Hope Planted
My mother is a gardener. She grows dreams from tiny seeds. Plants hope in small furrows of soil as black as coffee grounds. Each time she drops one into the ground her hands wave the soil gently over them like she’s tucking them in for the night under the midnight earth. Sometimes her face gets dreamy when she looks out at the poppies’ dancing faces waving to her in the breeze, and I think this must be her lullaby. A place to rest. The ground has taught her patience during the times when …
