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Broken Wires – Apologies and Forgiveness
This morning my kids are at school and I’m home pondering apologies and forgiveness for the routine conflicts experienced in family and friendships. One of my own struggles is that after I have wronged someone, even if I have apologized and they say they have forgiven me, I still feel the brokenness. I can shoulder the hurt for years and stash it away to beat myself up with later. Sometimes if I’m the one wounded, I don’t address hurtful actions…
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Relationships with Words
This post feels a bit heavy-handed on “words” — but given that the physical tethers have been stretched thin during COVID, words are often all we have to go on in our relationships. I can be a vulnerable person, or at least come off as such, in the way I use written word to process feelings. When I feel prolonged dissatisfaction, shame or sadness, I often work my way through and rise above them by wrestling with words. It’s like…
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When God Doesn’t Burn it All Down
Remember how God sent Jonah to call the people of Nineveh out of their evil ways and back to Him? Jonah was so offended by the people of Nineveh that he didn’t want to offer them God’s message of reconciliation, and he actually first ran the opposite direction. He ran so hard that he endangered the lives of sailors and ended up as fish bait before he relented to God’s big ask. When the people of Nineveh did listen and…
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Processing 2020
Of all the years, 2020 has been one for the books. Years from now we will look back at the headlines of this year's headlines with hearts and mouths still agape. Personally, I've never spent as much time as I have this year reflecting on deep and hard topics.
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Whitetop Weekend
My dad’s mom suffered Alzheimer’s and dementia at the end of her life, and it seemed she remembered childhood bits, but then there were huge chunks of time missing. I’m not a rock climber, but I believe documenting memories and thoughts is a little like when a climber clips in to a new anchor once they’ve finished a pitch. Not all is lost if they slip up. So here I am, clipping in a minor memory because it all matters.…
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In the trailing days of summer
In the trailing days of summer, on the first cool swish of autumn air, I catch the exhale of my youth. The spirit of my former myself whispers of her hopes and possibilities and sighs of her solitude. She lifts my bones and blows my hair, and for a moment we nod in recognition, marveling at the turning leaves, relishing the transformation, wondering if we alone see. When I walk trails alone, I find her, my old companion, the one…
