I thought things

were under control –

until they weren’t

and I am still unsure

exactly where it all


how I came to

the end of myself.

And yet that’s

where I ended up.

At the end of myself.

It would

seem that

at one’s end





But you were there.

You caught me.

You held me.

And you taught me

about who you are

and who I am.

You made it known

to me that I am

not the sum of

what goes right

in my world.

In fact, I am

more than that

I am



and eternity

is within me

because you

are in me.

These mysteries

are out of my control.

and somehow

that’s okay with me.

The end of myself

is no longer

a place that I fear.

It’s the place

where I rest.

Where I am the

most empty

and yet

every need is met.

A wonder.

I am amazed

at what you

revealed to me;

honored by the

way you showed

me who you are

in the midst of





You are a warrior.

You are a warrior.

You are a warrior.
You’ve walked a
tightrope –
steady –
the balance
hope and grief,
joy and pain,
digging in and
letting go.
You’ve trusted.
And you didn’t fall.
Somehow you
found a way to
be present in the
midst of holding
so much.
How did you
manage to dance
on a tightrope?
You’ve learned
and relearned
who you are;
who you are
meant to be,
created to be.
You’ve discovered
both your need
and your strength.
May you see,
dear warrior,
the way
you’ve grown,
the way you’ve
been held.
Hey, skinny jeans.

Hey, skinny jeans.

Hey, skinny jeans.

I know that you have 

felt my absence. 

It’s nothing personal…

I still like you. 

I also like breathing. 

Things have changed 

in the last 10 months 

and what was once 

‘fit like a glove’

is now painful contortion. 

It’s not you. 

It’s me. 

You can’t encompass

the results of

my coping mechanisms.


ice cream, 

sitting in a chair and writing, 

watching movies with the kids,

and lots of snacks, and not an

equal amount of walks,

have been my regulars.

It would be unfair 

to us both 

to ask you to

hold all of me. 

I should tell you, 

I don’t feel badly 

when I pass you over

each day.

I don’t feel guilt or shame 

that my curves no longer fit 

within your seams.

You require that I be less, 

but I am more. 

I’ve changed.

I am stronger than I’ve ever been before.

I’ve seen more and felt more. 

I’ve hurt more. 

I am softer. 

I am more reliant. 

I need more than I thought. 

I need less than I thought.

A paradox like the rest of life. 

Skinny jeans –

It’s not you, 

it’s me. 

You ask me to be less,

but I am more. 


Bloom for real

Bloom for real

I planted silk flowers

in my garden 

in my quest for beauty.

They don’t fool


for long. 

They look

garish and cheap

even when the 

sun shines.

When I make a show

and water 

their plastic roots with 

my polkadot watering can

they are still dead.

It’s not real beauty.

Counterfeit beauty

is an illusion

with nothing to offer. 

Real beauty doesn’t 

have a shortcut.

Real beauty 

has depth and grit.

Real beauty 

plants seeds, 

spawns life,

shares sustenance,

spreads joy. 

I will do the work.

I will bloom 

for real. 


How will you cultivate real beauty within?

Follow hope’s lead

Follow hope’s lead


is present in






hope can’t be

shut out

covered up


the signposts of hope 

will surprise you and 

you will find 


in places 

you don’t 


stay expectant

watch for it 

when hope 

shows up

don’t discount it

don’t argue with it

follow its lead

it will feed your soul


What are some practices that keep you expectant? Where do you see hope?