I remember it well. The sky was the lightest and most fragile shade of cotton candy pink, dappled with baby blue and effervescent yellow. The fog held close to the peaks of those wild blue mountains, trapped in the clefts and crevices like slow, low-hanging clouds. The white vapor hung precariously like it had tried … More Beautiful Storm (myATstory submission)
I am a woman who grew up a girl, dirt under fingernails and tangles in hair. I spent the days of my youth outdoors, running, dreaming. Sprinting the perimeter of my backyard, I would envision myself galloping on four legs, not my own. Engulfed by visions of freedom and strength, I would ride, not run. Ripping through fields atop my imaginary steed, the sensation of a wind-blown mane flapping against my bare knuckles was nearly tangible. I bought my first real pony in the seventh grade. … More On Pursuing Your Passions
We each carry within us a story- a story almost too fragile and wonderful to be limited by words. For, how do you fit a whole life into paragraphs? How do you spill memories, both the sacred and the hurtful, out onto a page with hopeful honesty? When it comes to telling our story, where do we begin? … More Telling Your Story (memoir class)
As I write this, I sit cross-legged on my deck. My laptop is propped atop my favorite pillow, the pillow I’ve had longer than I can even now recall, as a makeshift table. I sit facing the water. Looking Glass Lake, despite its namesake, is a murky and swampy body of water. Cattails and reeds line the entire perimeter. … More This isn’t about you
It’s late August now in Michigan, and crickets croak in the afternoon heat. Their song is comforting and smooth, a predictable symphony that will usher in a Midwest autumn. By September the leaves will start to turn. Cinnamon and nutmeg, cardigans and leather boots. Burgundy, eggplant. The seasons won’t delay. But, right now it’s still the in-between, with both sticky air … More The Words that Hold it All Together
Here’s to the hard seasons. Here’s to the hard seasons built by moments that started small and few, but spiraled towards much and many- the culmination of difficult feats and disastrous blows. Here’s to the seasons that humble you, to the seasons that lay you flat and strip you bare. Here’s to the transitions that remind you, once … More On Hard Seasons
Mothering itty bitty vegetables from seed to harvest has been a strange desire on my bucket list for years. Carrots, with their knobby roots and wild stems, have always been a particular fancy of mine. Every summer I fantasize of the satisfaction that must follow yanking one of those stubborn vegetables from the ground. I imagine firmly gripping each bushy stalk and giving … More Carrots And Dreams
Feel the sun shining down on you— its tangible warmth, its gentle glow— and know: Christ’s love for you is far greater, and far more real, than even the sun that drapes across your bare shoulders. This is your one true identity.
Adjusting to your life when life inevitably happens, unscripted in all its glory- this is a hard thing. When you are treading through the murk of unexpected and prolonged hardship, you must learn to adapt. … More Of Potholes and Tenderness
I watched a leaf blow, suspended midair by celestial threads. Caught in a careless and indiscernible breeze, she danced upon invisible floors and twirled around transparent fingers, a solo act. She was breathtaking and wonderful. So unexpected, so abrupt. So delicate and delightful.