Which lies do you believe?

The men come to us wearing the truth of addiction. Its stench is a life rotting away from the denial they are caught in its grip. Their faces gaunt, their eyes flat, their hearts hollowed from its lies. For too many food, rest, and a hot shower will cover addictions truth: it comes to destroy. They will, again, believe the lie they can do this on their own. That lie...

Are you living in or out of the box?

The prompt for photography class is outside the box. hmmm Nothing came to mind. Only questions. How do I do that in a still life class? Does she mean shoot something not still life? Do I get literal and silly and take a photo of something outside of a box? Oh, how I can complicate the simplest of instructions. I want more information. Tell me exactly what you mean, what...

The never ending, always expanding, role of mothering

There was something about the role of mothering that came natural to me. It started, perhaps, as granny mothered me in times I only know through photographs. Mama was in seminary where they couldn’t take their kids in those days. Daddy was pastoring a church while mama finished so granny filled the gap and so began a relationship that would keep us connected for long enough for her to see...

My momentary attack of brave (and hoping it stays)

I had a sudden attack of brave last week. The day I turned…six oh. (That’s much easier to type.) It’s left me now, that brave person who decided to face real life and not pretend. The me that wondered how will I do this in a way that conquers my fear, the me that had an ounce of determination to just do it! I posted this on Instagram: Today, not...

Have you become too familiar with the noise?

We travel regularly for our work. We’re in hotels several times a year and we hope our room will have an a/c we can set where the fan continues to whir. We’ve had rooms where its constant hum lulls us to sleep only to awaken in the middle of the night to harsh silence. It seems an odd contradiction but you know what I mean. It can be hard to sleep...

What if this were my prayer?

What if this were my prayer? thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank...

When housework makes you think…too much

I still look for it to be hanging there next to the broom and sponge mop I don’t use anymore. Then I remember and grab the Swifter and fasten a dusting cloth to it. Do you remember dust mops? Do you even remember rag mops? They were nasty to use, reaching down to wring the thick cords of fiber with your bare hand, wringing out all of that dirty water....