It’s been since February that I’ve come here to type and outwardly ponder.

Late February and early March brought a world of transformation to almost all countries, all people.

This quarantine life has become a surging, ever-challenging, sometimes changing long-term reality for us all. We are far from new to this quiet routine and while it’s hard to allow oneself to hope, there may be light in the not-too-distant future of a reopening of life, of exploration, of interaction with one another physically.

Everyone handles this differently and what I hope emerges is more compassion, less fear. More grace, less hatred (oh the events of this time could fill volumes). More contact, less distance. More love, less judgement.


There’s that saying, we never stop learning.

I’ve always appreciated what that meant. I loved College not for the normal reason of meeting great people, being on your own, going somewhere new. All of that is valid and played a vital part of why I loved the years in my College town. However what I loved the most is getting to tailor my education to topics I loved and was interested in.

Yes, there was the first year filled with requisites that I had to suffer through (I dropped physics when I found out there was calculus involved – yikes!) however getting to start right away with courses that would be towards my major (I began as an Elementary Education major but changed after my 2nd year to Creative Writing/English Lit) was such a refreshing time.

I love to learn new things. I think it keeps me young, on my toes, and advances my ability to have compassion on myself and others.

I am camped in the guest room of our house, curtain partially back over one window, watching the steady snowfall we were promised here in Missouri today.

My husband is diligently doing all he can for our family, by sacrificing his weekend to plow in the city where he works (he is in city government/urban development, but part of their options are to plow when it snows). I won’t get a snowed-in, movie day with hot cocoa, games and blankets with him, but I know he has chosen wisely and I’m so thankful for the ways he provides.

I have cozied up in the guest room, dog snoozing beside me, music playing through the tv. I have my water, my decaf coffee, and all I need to enjoy the beauty outside. I try to use this opportunity to write. So my laptop is open and here I am.


I’m looking forward to the day when the baby section at Target doesn’t cause an anxiety attack.


I sent that text this morning to my husband and a couple friends.
It is because it is a visceral memory that grabs me and shoves me roughly back to a painful moment of my pregnancy, before we knew the end was coming.

Have you ever been curious about what goes through someone’s mind at any given moment? The times that seem as if it’s just the same old life, only to realize that it only takes a second for everything to shift?

Maybe it’s an innocuous memory, maybe it’s a random replaying of a conversation. Maybe it’s a note-to-self “oh I can’t forget to pick up milk”. For me, while I can’t remember what was going through my mind that day, I do recall that exactly one week later, it was song lyrics. Song lyrics that I was singing in my head to carry me through the next sentences spoken…

Seven Months.

That’s how long it’s been since I came to this space to speak.

I’ve gone longer, but it still dampens my spirit, the hiatus between the coming. My sister-sage-writing hero- friend Kris Camealy declared the most perfect insight on the practice. She put in syllables what my soul tries so desperately to convey, when her son asked her “Why do you write?“:

“I tell him, with a rock-sized lump in my throat, that I don’t always know how I feel until I touch my pen to the paper, and only then, does my own heart come into focus.”

I’ve never done the “word of the year” practice.

I have this weird thing about not wanting to join in something just because it’s popular (though admittedly I still do in some cases – I just don’t like that I do).

It took me years to read Harry Potter because it was such a craze. I wanted to form my own opinion. I saw many of the movies before reading the books – and if you know me, that’s backwards. It wasn’t until book 7 was about to be released that my friend Alison convinced me I need to get with it already. When I started, you better believe I sprinted through books 1-6 in record time and kept going every year.

With the word of the year, I respect it and have always thought it was a nice idea. I completely understand why it is done. Not only is it motivating, it provides one a grounding to see the whole picture in times of plenty and want, in times of quiet and times of turmoil. Using that word and more importantly, how God is using that word and theme, is of great advantage to a journey and a focus. I wholeheartedly understand.
Still, I prefer to stay back. It’s hard to describe.

But I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I could use the extra motivation to stay connected with His presence. I’ve come to understand better the importance of my participation in my growth and daily life and how a practice such as this, assists.

I have a tendency to make more of things than they may be. [If you listen close, you can hear the sound of a collective sarcastic gasp from anyone that knows me at all…]

I know I do this. I have gotten better at listening to my rational side during moments of doubt, of spiraling over-analytical processes in my head.

Still, when it comes to matters of the heart, of emotion – feeling tends to be stronger than practicality. Particularly when it relates to rejection. No matter how old I am, rejection still hurts as sharply as if I were a child not picked for a team or sitting alone at lunch while others glance my way and whisper. I think we all have that default ache, even if some were more acquainted with such grief than others.

There are flakes falling softly outside.
The first snow of the season. It will be a dusting at most.

Ever notice how quiet everything is in snow? The world muffles the cacophony and you’re immersed in silence and calm. There is a scientific reason for it of course. Because snow is porous (more space between the snowflakes when accumulating together), it muffles the sound. The science is lovely and the calm is comforting.

Taken today, personal photo, backyard.

I am thankful for how my back sliding door is in a great position so when I pull back the curtains, I have a peaceful view of the trees, falling precipitation and yard.

Right now, I have music on, decaf coffee, a nervous dog beside me and comfy clothes. I took a half day but it doesn’t feel like it. The time passed quickly and I wanted to use the time wisely. To read, to write, to journal. This isn’t even going to be a worthy post, I can tell. I just wanted to do something. Advance this. For myself. 

It’s a rainy Thursday.
We have had days of significant rainfall. Windy, thunderstorms, hail. It’s the recipe for a cozy day indoors.

Most often we don’t get to participate in the relaxation instinct. We have jobs to go to, chores to finish, things to do. Rest is just that elusive thing only a fraction of people get to do, right?

%d bloggers like this: