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He tells us beside the Frio's flow, in his talk on The Care and Feeding of Creativity. That when work stalls and words stop, move. Because it's in the moving that we breathe. It's in the breathing that we keep breathing. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Work out....
Some days are way weary. This is one of them. Its wonder's wedged in the dusty gap between the cupboard and the fridge. And stuck in pancake syrup still puddled in the morning's plates. Tupperware towers topple on the work tables, containers that once held...
She lies crumpled near the goal, in front of the other team’s spectators, and her wail impales my heart. But I’m a good soccer mom/nama, so I sit glued to my chair while her coach runs to her. Soon he’ll sweep her up in his arms (with a few jokes), set her down on the...
“What does it matter what I do? I know you’re just going to tell me the same thing over and over. You’ll be disappointed in me and still classify me with dirt.” I don’t try to stop the words coming out of my mouth. I have held them back so many times in the past, so...
“Look, there’s a dragonfly.” He points into the water. We’ve been hiking deep...
It shatters my slumber, the voice through the monitor. "Gramma. Gramma!" It's...
I’ve found God in a lot of places. I’ve heard sermons while sitting beneath...
Grace has brought a blue-topped spiral notebook as well as two big...
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