Writing Hard Stories
I open the kitchen door, and Freya rushes into the house. Once she’s done with her pre-dawn barking, she’s ready to come in. Now. Anticipating our walk, Heathcliff vacates the favored nest-bed in front of the wood furnace. Freya claims the warmth of both and...
Of Turtles and Fear
As high winds ushered in last night's cold front, Heathcliff huddled in his nest bed. He fears the sound of wind, beating against the house and knocking down patio furniture. This morning, the temperature outside registered in the low teens, zero with the wind...
What Creativity Feels Like
Winter storm Gia arrived this past weekend, starting late Saturday afternoon. Early Sunday morning, we woke to a wonderland covered with sleet. Outside snow and ice Tucked in warm by the fireplace A good day to write. Today, as we dig out from the storm, I share...
Giving to little things in little ways
Freya leaned the right side of her body against the deck railing while I combed the undercoat on her left side. During the holidays, I’d neglected to brush her thick coat regularly, and she was sprouting tufts of fur. “Good girl, Freya, good girl,” I said as she...
Steadfast Forgiveness and Love
For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call upon you. Psalm 86:5 (ESV) The coffee machine beeps, and the dogs stir. It’s 5 am and the beginning of another day of catching up on the news and emails,...
O Little Town of Bethlehem
I stood among the angels dressed for the Kindergarten Christmas Pageant. Unlike me, my fellow angels had drums and triangles. My frown—more like a pout—expressed disappointment and covetousness. I wanted the gifts my classmates had been given. Like the other...