I’ve been a little bit proud and a lot bit celebratory this week as I approach my two-year writing anniversary on October 16th. This is, of course, not marking the moment when I first began writing, but it is the day when I committed to publishing a piece of new writing at least once each week. My brand new husband and I had moved halfway across the country only a couple of weeks earlier. We didn’t have internet in our home yet, so I went to a nearby Panera, took a deep breath, and created my . . .
I had a highly anticipated (by me) post set to go out to you this week but, in light of the recent events, the timing doesn’t feel appropriate. That piece can wait because today and this week my mind is on Las Vegas. You may have seen my initial response to the shooting posted on social media. I’m trying to be really intentional about living into my words, leaving the house with a real awareness of who is around me and how I am helping them to feel seen and respected. I met a new neighbor . . .
I love words. Every day, I am putting words together in speech or in writing. With words, I and my work come to life. In order to have a sufficient output of words, I have to have enough input. So I read a lot of books and articles and I listen to podcasts and music, because I cannot be a hollow writer. I have to be filled in order to offer anything. Oh, and then there’s the social media—do we all have an ambivalent relationship with it?—where I can keep up with the happenings of my friends, . . .
I'm so excited to share that I'm now a regular monthly contributor over at Red Tent Living! This month, their theme is, "What If?" Here's where that prompt took me: Questions Worth Asking Growing up, my siblings and I had a narrow summertime wardrobe: pajamas and bathing suits. Our days were spent playing in our backyard pool—Marco Polo, DIY whirlpools, and cannonball contests.These were fun and relaxing days, but life wasn’t all carefree for me. I learned how to worry at a young age. I still . . .
We know very little about her story. All we really know is that she sinned. She was caught and she was about to die. Not really an experience any of us strive for. Not a legacy that we hope to leave. But this piece of her story—this is all we know of her. The scene is set: Jesus has spent some time away at the Mount of Olives. Early in the morning, He comes down to the temple and the Bible says, “All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them.” As he is teaching, the scribes and . . .
I understand that each week holds the same number of hours, but some weeks seem significantly shorter than others. Do you feel that, too? I'm having one of those particularly short weeks right now. FEAR NOT, however. I've pocketed enough time to share a couple of pieces with you. My friends at iBelieve.com have been kind enough to publish two of my posts recently, and I wanted to share them with you. We're talking habits that can hurt a marriage and things we should avoid saying to women without . . .