The technician was silent. As was I. But the tears felt like bolts of lightening without being able to release the thunder. The problem was, I knew what I was supposed to see, and I wasn’t seeing it anywhere. Before I knew it, she was telling me about the process of miscarrying and how long I should expect it to take naturally. “This is very common,” she said, with the best of intentions…
Read MoreSo there I sat on Sunday, my mind racing through the patterns that had worn on my heart. I suddenly realized, yet again, how tight my soul was, and how much it needed to be loosened again, to breathe again, and even to celebrate again. It seems the work of a healthy soul is never finished…
Read MoreI spent a long time tight-fisted, avoiding eye contact with my dreams. I knew my creative, God-given gifts still wanted a place because they still ached in me. I knew bits and pieces of what I was capable of and I constantly felt them hovering like a tireless hummingbird, just waiting…
Read MoreA home is not just where you live. It’s where you celebrate and grieve. Where you find rest or restlessness. Where you learn all the hard lessons about forgiving and loving other flawed humans under the same roof. Where the angriest tears leak onto your pillow and the best—or scariest—news arrives on a pregnancy test. Where reminders of lost loved ones hang on the walls or in edge-rubbed journals. Where you either run toward or avoid…
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