secret plans

it’s the small, secret things that make a life. the hidden actions between you and your creator that you don’t regret, but rather forget, immediately, because there was no wrongdoing, only pure motive, that will be remembered out loud, from the rooftops, on that day. i’m sick of social media and its law of diminishing

17 years ago

Has this blog ever been about anything else? Mazzy. Mazzy. My first child. The girl who changed the world. My world anyway. “Every child changes your whole life!” “That’s true for typical kids in friendships, too!” “All kids go through tough school transitions!” I could try to tell you how different it is to love

than many sparrows

there are people around me all the time. before most days, most years, i was alone. now i wake up with them, drive to them, work with them, come home to them, sleep next to them and wake up with them once again. before i was around them.  i took care of them, but then

rainforest heart

my shoe pressed onto the moss in the tongass national forest. the guide explained that the air quality here is 98% pure.  i felt lucky to be breathing it.  lucky to be seeing a bald eagle’s nest holding two fledglings with mom and dad watching us closely.  i felt lucky to sidestep a banana slug and

do you believe in whales?

whale sighting this morning. one tail spotted diving back down into this vast blue steel sea.  a spray soon follows and it’s enough to convince me that yes, there are whales in this ocean all around. what about twenty years from now when i haven’t been back at sea and all i have are the

a collection of paths

a vision. god gives us a vision of dry ground becoming a pool of water. then we try to make it so. but it’s not so simple, it is not so straightforward. i have to become the vision before the vision is a real for me or for anyone else. how are you? how is the

a safe place to feel

last night i was talking to a group of women about emotions. we ended up fingerpainting and praying and laughing and crying. this morning i’m trying to remember how it feels to feel. i think paint may be in order. one friend said, it just felt good to have my fingers in paint. and it

hallelujah is another word for thank you

and i’ve seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah mazzy wants to be in the choir. she’s sat in the audience applauding her brother and her sister for a few years now. she wants a turn.  but the polite email

let me show you a beautiful thing

i lived in three houses as a girl. the very first one stays with me as the truest home.  ten years of growing up.  ten years of not knowing anything but 7702 patton street in detroit, michigan. i don’t know when it started but i would walk two blocks down to warren road alone with one

seasonal heart

these days of muted light feel just about right. sometimes my heart feels wide open, easily accessible, like the bright blue. but not lately. no, when the sun gets further away, a thin sheet of ice weathered from the events and circumstances of the year forms. the thin places turn into visible pools of murky,