by Ashley Larkin | May 15, 2014 | Childhood, Fear, Hope, Imperfect Prose, Mothering, One Word: Seek, Perspective, Tell His Story
We worry, in fact it brings tears right to the eyes this nagging feeling that these small lives don’t matter we know their small lives do with their bellies needing food and their potty accidents, their little hearts and eyes crying out, see me, and i need the...
by Ashley Larkin | Mar 19, 2014 | Grace, Love, Mothering, Tell His Story, Truth-telling
We finish the last of our latte foam, and she asks if I’m excited about the year ahead, and I am. Forty feels like new frontier as much as it feels a continuation. I’m carrying a renewed sense of purpose, and I’ve almost danced for joy these last two...
by Ashley Larkin | Mar 13, 2014 | Community, Faith, Gratitude, Perspective, Tell His Story
If I could bottle the drippy treasures for you in bottles, I would. Cup my hands to catch the prayers and the locked gazes and nodding me-too’s. Hold the wisdom of those who share the ways of word loving (and word struggling), of storytelling and eyes opening...
by Ashley Larkin | Jan 28, 2014 | Childhood, Family, Favorite posts, Just Write, Mothering, One Word: Seek, Parenting, Perspective, Surrender, Tell His Story
I write in my basement where puffy cotton clouds dangle from the ceiling along with lines of raindrops cut from paint chips. Through the window, I see the backyard where buckets and rags mingle with sticks jammed into grass and a makeshift drying bench for washed and...
by Ashley Larkin | Oct 9, 2013 | 31 Days 2013: Right Here, Childhood, Faith, Grace, Gratitude, Imperfect Prose, Mothering, Tell His Story
Sometimes we don’t want to be right here. While that is perhaps the most obvious statement of the century, it’s true that one of the greatest hindrances to being right where we are is that sometimes, for seemingly small or large reasons, right here is not...
by Ashley Larkin | Oct 2, 2013 | 31 Days 2013: Right Here, Faith, Fear, Imperfect Prose, One Word: Trust, Tell His Story, Trust
I walk downstairs to the kitchen counter where I pick up my phone and check the emails that filled my inbox overnight. I boil the water for coffee, grind the beans, fill the French press and my mug with hot from the tap so they’ll be good and ready. The grounds...
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