I found a slice of my past in the garage last weekend. Flash flooding had forced me to empty and clean the entire space. But before I could throw away a box of water-soaked childhood mementos, I had to take one final look.
So I sat on my driveway, surrounded by bicycles, paint cans, and old car seats, and opened this portal to my past. Two seemingly unrelated things caught my breath:Read more
It was her pair of black sandals that initially made me pause. I could remember her wearing them at family gatherings and now they lay on the floor, resting indefinitely.
But it was more than the shoes.
My husband’s grandparents’ home was filled with things Grandmother had left behind when she recently passed away—papers, clothes, quilting projects, and even a pie crust patiently awaiting its filling in the freezer.
But it was more than these items, too.
It was the things she’d been leaving behind for years, though you’d never see them stacked in a corner or overflowing from a box. In fact, you couldn’t see them at all.
They’re the same things each of us leaves behind after every encounter with another:
Imagine a journey with no packing, no airport security, and no overtired-yet-astonishingly-loud children. Sounds easy, but this type of travel’s tough stuff. In fact, this journey of self-development challenges our strength as we discover who we are and what we’re meant to do.
It’s traveling inward, outward, and back home again.
Kinda sounds like we’re going in a circle, right?
Sort of, but this is no simple circle. Where we start and end may be the same, but are we the same? Luckily, nature recently provided me the perfect explanation . . . and it begins at a beach in Cape Cod. Read more
There’s a small metal box, trimmed in pink pom-poms, that sits on my daughter’s bedside table. In it rest handwritten worries—a collection of thoughts she’d prefer leave her alone.
It’s a special item I loved giving her, but not the first “worry box” I’ve gifted. The original belongs to a friend I met fifteen years ago. And I even have my own version, though it’s only in my mind.
So we have an 8-year-old, a then twenty-something, and a thirty-nine-and-three-fourths-year-old all with one common problem: Read more