Grandma Moses

Anna Mary Robertson Moses. Maybe your not familiar with this dear old woman. She lived her life between New York and Virginia, as a hired girl and then a wife and mother. She raised five children. She worked on her farm with her husband until he died. What is amazing about this woman is that…

giving Reflections on Thanks

Before everyone arrives with hot casseroles and forced conversations, it’s quiet. It’s dark and soundless, except for the occasional jingle of the dog’s collar. The coal stove glows orange inside, reminding me of ET’s heart. The kids are asleep upstairs, tucked in, not far from the cold chill clinging to their windows. A faint light…

Parallel Play – A letter to my grandmother

Hi Mim. I’m reading a book about writing. It’s suggests, in order to find my authentic writing voice, I write a letter to someone I trust, someone who gets me, shares my sensibility, someone who likes me. You came to mind. I’m 38 now. You’ve been gone for 20 years. I’ve surpassed the years I…

The Learning Curve

I learned cursive in 3rd grade, like everyone else born pre- laptops and i phones. However, for the past 30 years, I have chosen a different sort of penmanship, a unique blend of print, created cursive and imagined letters. I never embraced my learned cursive. I rejected it, perhaps because I didn't want to follow…

Fly Away Home

As parents we are always saying farewell. From the moment a baby is born we begin the process of separation. It’s easy to forget in the day to day business of living, that our job as parents is to set our people free, let them fly, give them wings so they can soar into a…

Fly Away Home

As parents we are always sending our children off into the world. From the moment they are born we begin the process of separation. It’s easy to forget in the day to day business of living, that our job as parents is to set our people free, let them fly, give them wings so they…

Invisible God

How long will it take me to see you’re not invisible after all-it’s me who’s blind. I live in a dark world where the light of Christ alone illuminates my eyes to see the un-seen, know the unknown and commune with the invisible God.

Into Winter

My Memory of a dog bite in the face   There was a bite in the air. A sharp chill that reminded us summer was long gone, but winter had not yet taken over. It’s mostly a transition time, a period of turning and changing when plans are carved out, but not always understood. It’s…

Memory Work

Sometimes the best way to retrieve memories is to tiptoe through the past, get what you need and then run like hell. Sometimes there are seasons of safety when growth helps you build a tent among the forgotten pieces of the past and get the work done. Unfortunately memories can be like shrapnel embedded deeply…