About my kitchen
I grieve for the kitchen.
The heart of my home
The place that young children came first to find me.
The place that I looked first for my mother when I was hurt
Warm light, good smells.
About returning to Virginia
My Virginia-born fourth grade scrapbook describes the Civil
War era as a time that the states had differences and that, when Lee surrendered
to Grant at Appomattox, a tear fell down his cheek as he realized that he had
let down his sweet home state. There was
zero, and I do mean zero reference to human trafficking. To oppression. To the soul of what the south believed to be
worth fighting for.
30 years after leaving Virginia, I’m headed home to
her. How do I rewrite the biases of my
beginnings there and …..
Forgetting to pray
I’ve spent the darkest days of winter prayer-less. It occurred to me this past week – that I’ve
not asked God to help change me from the inside out around this move. That there is a need, no hunger that I have,
that I’ve not asked for help from the great power in my life. In fact, is there a great power in my
life? Even asking the question shows how
far I’ve drifted from the center of wisdom in my life.
Jan 28, 2016
Looking out the bathroom window
At night, the moon casts long shadows of the oaks, rippling
across the rock wall towards where I stand.
How many times have I risen early to see this? I want to lock in every angle of this view in
my brain.
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