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Trees, Hope, And Waiting For Sunday
I sometimes want to be a tree. I want to blow in the breeze, feel the rain on my branches, shelter birds and squirrels and...
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Bloom: Learning to Thrive in Light of Our Stories
I sit as part of a circle of seven women and watch as one of them begins to cry. I begin to rock my body...
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Tune Those Strings: A Reflection on Attachment
I’m all up in the business of attachment these days. I observe the attachment styles of friends and family members. I consider my attachment dynamics...
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The Battle for Joy
I just woke up early in my daughter’s home. There are no sounds of our freshly born granddaughter, Parker, or her mother or father. I...
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New Year, New You and Other Lies We Believe
A few years ago on New Year’s Eve I sat around a room with friends and we began to talk about our hopes for the...
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Cultivating Space
My husband says to our children, “If I disappear, look for me in a Goodwill store!” His fear stems from the reality that I have...
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Mary Christmas
I imagine her Girl with dust-smudged cheeks. Robe wrapped tight around swollen belly, Fringed dirty. Windblown. Grit in teeth. Inner thighs burning and chapped. Donkey...
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Ponder
I have always loved the wise men. As a young child, it was my favorite part of the Christmas Eve pageant in our beautiful church....
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