As a little girl, I relished stories – picture books and piles of novels, my grandparents’ tales around the table. I knew then, as now, that stories are one of life’s most profound ways to understand love, grab hold of deeper truths and recognize our common ground.

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From the blog

When grace is a hammock

Currently our thermostat reads 84 degrees. It could be worse. Outside, the temperature has risen to 102 -- more than a bit jarring to our Northwest sensibilities. Lala and a friend play store downstairs. When I bring them fruit and crackers, they tell me that someone...

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Ode to a tree

Horse chestnut trees are considered a nuisance. Ask anyone who's had one, and they can tell you why. Tell all about the seasons of fallen leaves, spike balls (conkers), sticky pollen pods and flowers smelling of slightly distant poopy diapers. Many of you have heard...

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The wardrobe and the storm

Thinking about the changes of middle age and the demands of a good life and a desire for energy to keep pressing to the center of things. Originally published February 6, 2014. She pushes past coats in the wardrobe, like Lucy seeking light from the lamp post that...

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Let’s connect on Instagram

 Yes, let it be so. Thank you, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. (Thank you @palakabrad. Love this.)
 Woman, you are fierce and courageous. #rosietheriveter #wecandoit #wecandohardthings #philippians4:13 #raisinggirls #mamasdressup
 "Practice" eggs. Two fit side by side in an egg cup. May we find grace for ourselves and others in humble beginnings like these. #lifelessonsfrombackyardchickens #payingattention
 When I hurt, I write. As our Columbia River Gorge burns... • • I imagine our collective tears dousing flames waves of sorrow sweeping across ridges and spilling over like thousands of waterfalls joining ancient ones who dance there
 Another hot day begins with the whirring of the standup fan. Life is filled with so much repetition. Back and forth. Spin. Spin. Spin. Curtains flutter, then fall. Flutter. Fall. The question for me this morning: How will I show up full hearted to this very day, eyes open to both same and fresh? Appreciating the gift of the breeze floating across my face again and again -- remembering words for all us who forget: "I am doing a NEW thing. Do you not perceive it?" (-God) #isaiah43:19 #payingattention
 On the blog. New post: When grace is a hammock. Maybe you need a fresh gulp of grace yourself. "Grace feels shape-shifting mysterious to me these days, a meal that is sometimes overflowing table and other times manna in grubby hands... Sometimes grace opens up an afternoon, encircled by thick hot air and a longing to be creative in prose, and it is longing met with a whispered, yes. In this moment, grace is a fan blowing against my back, girls setting their hands to tasks and their hearts to relationship. Grace is rest that is still movement, a heart that acknowledges need and the release from gravity..." Link in profile.
 Scavenging for bite-sized beauty among thorns. Spikes prick. Blood trickles. Berries squeeze flat between fingertips, and I lick them. Bird song, girl call, tractor roll, airplane engine rumbles through clouds. Everyday mingles with extraordinary. Metaphor everywhere.
 How I adore the Redwoods and time with my dear people there. What a gift to stand among the towering ancient giants and dangly lichen -- to remember the good of our smallness and the beauty-loving power of a mighty Creator who formed trees and fire, soft faces and laughter. So much laughter. This mama's heart is full. (And my belly, too, I might add...So. Much. Good. Fire-cooked. Food. Thank you, honey.)

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