There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about and miss my father. Perhaps it was the kindness that was so much his hallmark… perhaps it was his endless patience and his willingness to drop whatever he was doing to listen, to care, to act. “Want to read me a book, Papa?” [ Read More ]
People don’t look to the long-ago poetry of Edgar Guest for soaring metaphors or complex pentameter. He was often called the People’s Poet because of his commonsense-able thoughts about life, rendered in the form of simple verse that was full of homespun wisdom and spiritual decency. When I was writing the What Would Jesus Do blog I remembered this poem [ Read More ]
I ran across this poem quite by accident and was so touched by it, I’d like to pass it on to you this Memorial Day. It reminded me of a family incident a few years ago, that showed me how easy it is to overlook the true heroes around us, or perhaps, simply not know [ Read More ]
Losing a child is a special kind of grief, irrevocably out of sync with nature. We’re not supposed to bury our children — the mind and heart rebel and struggle to find a place to contain the unbearable and unthinkable. We give birth to infinite love when we give birth to our children. Joy, hope, [ Read More ]
I’ve studied and worked in many areas of alternative medicine over the past 25 years. Between my daughters’ terrible illnesses and that of others I’ve striven to heal, I expect I’ve seen nearly as much sickness and suffering as most physicians. In the process, I’ve come to know that illness wears a thousand masks and [ Read More ]
My parents read to me and to each other, a spectacular gift that rings in me still. It was poetry for the most part — and I loved it so much I never went to bed a night without memorizing a poem, or at least a group of verses. If the poem was lengthy like [ Read More ]
By the grace of God and a fast outfield, I find myself the mother of a 21 year old, born so many years after my first two daughters, it might as well be considered a separate lifetime Dakota is perched on the precarious edge of womanhood now, and she’s a deep one, never precipitous in [ Read More ]