What creates strong childhood memories? Our children no doubt have some doozies. In 1977 I tacked my personal manifesto on the front of our avocado green refrigerator. Like Martin Luther I was looking for reformation. He used nails. I used magnets. We both demanded change. Deb was 10 years old and Doug was 12. I […]
A decade ago Don and I met with Father Cory of All Saints Church in Saugatuck. The three of us sat in that beautiful treetop room. We explored how I might use the church’s retreat house for my programs. That talk led to a nearly a decade of programs. The treetop room became our circle
My eyes slide over photos as I flip through my iPad library. Like minutes on a clock, these images measure the passage of time. Faces of loved ones, age before my eyes. Granddaughters go from girls to young women. Still others, like Don’s parents, disappear from recent family gatherings. I wonder, “What will 2019 bring?”
Do you remember a favorite gift you received? I’m guessing a part, maybe a big part, of its specialness was because the giver truly saw you. The “I see you” message may not have been spoken but it was reflected in the care that was used to select the gift. Maybe it came with a
Lately, I have been cooking a lot. Don and I have moved to plant-based eating. My kitchen is full of vegetables and new cookbooks. Cooking had become routine and boring to me. Now I am excited to make new recipes. There are many reasons for this choice, staying well and the health of the planet
Purple asters and bronze-colored mums dot my garden. Crimson leaves have begun to cover the burning bush. Hosta leaves are outlined in a crispy brown. Chilly air, less sunlight, the aroma of cinnamon and the appearance of pumpkins on porches are sure signs that autumn has arrived. Quiet settles over me. It whispers. “Listen, it
When we slow down and begin to listen, we can become aware of a deeper longing. Maybe some place inside of you wants to… Create a play Meditate more Change jobs Write a book Retire Or? Our Guest Blogger, Maureen Glass, wrote this piece last week while attending the Taos Retreat. She touches on how
A blur of jump rope passes by my eyes and then slaps the pavement. The girls holding the ends of the rope start the counting rhyme. “Down in the valley where the green grass grows, there sat Nancy sweet as a rose, along came Johnny and kissed her on the cheek. How many kisses did
Steam rises as my iron glides back-and-forth on the blue napkin. The scent of damp cotton warmed by the iron’s heat floats up in a stream of steam along with childhood memories of watching my mother iron. She taught me. I was eager to learn. Pillowcases and napkins were the easiest to manage so that
Bags of food and supplies gather in the kitchen as I pack up for the spring retreat. There is a gathering energy in me also. Visions of entering a sacred space with a handful of women fill me. I wonder, “What are they feeling as they ready themselves for this journey?” We will move deeper
