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Near the park a block or so from our house, it stands – a golden tree, its black spine and branches posing a stark contrast to the bright blue sky, the shimmering yellow cascade. Walking to pick-up my children from school one day, I pass under and look up...
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The only condition necessary for this state of self-surrender is the present moment in which the soul, light as a feather, fluid as water, innocent as a child, responds to every movement of grace like a floating balloon. – Jean Pierre de Caussade in The...
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(this is what I’m listening to as I type, though we live nowhere near a field) * * * At our old house, the cardinals swooped and soared through the back yard, pausing on a tree or fence before flying through the air again like a...
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(This story was originally posted last summer as part of a longer essay, click HERE to read part 1.) I’m headed to the biggest grocery store in town on the day before the fourth of July. This is only the second time I’ve ever gone shopping alone with all...
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Last summer I stood watching my then four-year-old son trying to learn to float at swim lessons. He’s as scrawny as a wet cat, all skin and bones with straw colored hair sticking out in every direction. I’m thankful for the swim shirt that hides the...
