I was polishing up my "spouting off blog" reflections last Monday afternoon (something about "sacred sauntering," I believe) as I sat by my mother-in-law's bedside while she slept. Up until a few days prior, she had been her usual pleasantly perplexed self. The staff on the memory care unit frequently commented on how much they loved taking care of her because she would ramble, giggle, and smile amiably as she interacted with them.

That Monday night around midnight we got a call from Joan's nurse saying that she seemed to be in some discomfort and that they were going to call hospice to help make her more comfortable…

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Have you ever noticed how auto-correct can sometimes feel prophetic? Often auto-correct suggestions are humorous, like the suggestion that you pick up some bears (rather than bread!) for dinner on the way home! However, sometimes auto-correct opens my eyes to a much needed moment of sacred clarity…

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I took this picture of Lake Erie about a month ago just after the Easter sunrise service as I headed home to prepare for gathering of family and friends. What a beautiful day it was!

Something that I think many people don't realize, however, is that celebration of Easter isn't just a single day. The Christian season of Eastertide is actually 50 days long as we journey from Easter to Pentecost (which is June 5 this year). So it is STILL EASTER!

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Each January for the past 5 years, I have looked forward to what has become one of my favorite spiritual practices - listening for a word that will become my sacred companion in the year to come. In the past, my words have included: "trust in the slow work of God," fallow, dance, still and play. This year, after much prayerful consideration, I have landed on the word "stretch" as my sacred companion…

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The unexpected call from my brother-in-law began with the words, “She’s going to be okay, but she’s been in an accident…” and my breath stopped.

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Last Tuesday on the memory support unit, God reminded me that whether our fumbling attempts to show love are met with confusion, criticism or affirmation, we persevere. We honor our differences. We love our neighbor. We love our enemies. Even when it is really, really hard.

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I love reading and I love gardening. These two passions intersected in a delightful and meaningful way while reading Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer. at the same time I was planning my garden this spring. I was inspired to adjust my fledgling garden layout and give the Three Sisters Indigenous agricultural planting method a try…

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I grew up on Longview Avenue in Portland, Oregon, right down the street from Overlook Park. Oh, how I loved that park - rolling down the grassy hillside, making delicate chains out of clover flowers, spending hours on the merry go round (somewhat unwisely surrounded by gravel, as the scar on my knee still vividly attests), splashing in the concrete wading pool, and picking blackberries that grew at the edge of the park. It was familiar and comfortable. It was home.

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