As a preteen, I picked up a pen pal from Ghana. She told me how she was trying to save money for college. “We don’t go to college unless we have a purpose for it,” I remember writing back. We being conservative Mennonites and purpose being a vital occupation like a doctor or a nurse. […]
And a cold January it is. I have had a light case of the winter blues, augmented by almost zero time outdoors and my daughter’s toothache, which worries me. But the sun shines today. Maybe next week will be warmer. And by the way, for those who identify with seasonal affective disorder, I once wrote
There is a quiet place I carry with me, I wrote once. The words still hang on an index card beside my desk. No matter where I go, or how busy my life has been, or how many distractions I feel around me, that quiet place is there if I pause and wait for it. But
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My dad used to say, “A man’s home is his castle.” By this he meant a man or woman is king or queen of their home. It is the sacred spot where their soul can be free, and no one has the right to impinge upon it without permission. We knew that whatever happened in the
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One of the people I most admire–a writing mentor about the age of my parents–recently lost her strong young-man son. My heart goes out to her. Life is so full of surprises. Not all of them are bad. But some of them are very hard indeed. “Hold your life with an open hand,” a beautiful
The Joy that Holds the Universe Together Read More »
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