My Book is Born

I arrive home from the garden disheveled, with wind-swept hair and spinach and radishes in hand, to find beautiful, celebratory flowers on my dining table. A gift from Gerry to mark my book’s birth day. He insists on a photo, so I change my shirt, attempt something with my hair, and he says goofy things

Mental Health Break

It’s a beautiful afternoon so, after watering the garden and pulling a few weeds, we head to the nearby park to walk. It’s okay. We’re encouraged to get outside and enjoy our city parks. People on blankets in the grass, and towels on the beach, appears to be practicing appropriate social distancing. Something new, since

Writing, and Birthing a Book

One year ago today I posted this photo on social media with these words: “I’ve been at this pretty much all day and haven't made it past the second page. Whose idea was it for me to write another book anyway?” I was buried in revisions of The Presence of Absence: A Story About Busyness, Brokenness, and

Good Morning

I miss the awe of watching the changing eastern sky in the early morning when morning whispers and night tiptoes into obscurity. For many months now, when I wake shortly after 4 a.m., I’ve chosen to spend the first silent hours under a Sherpa blanket in the den, with a basket of supplies (Bible, notebook,

Still Waiting

One week from today, in seven short days, we’ll wake on Christmas morning and the waiting will be over. Nope. We’ll continue to wait because that’s how we’re built. There remains on the distant horizon a treasure of something we anticipate touching one day. Waiting is part of life. We might as well get comfortable