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Grace Makes Room
Working with adolescent girls is holy work. I watch, hushed and reverent, as these young women wander through the wilds of becoming, their hearts marked by invisible bruises, wounds without names. In a single afternoon, they are fierce and fragile, bold and uncertain, sunlight and shadow braided together. Eyes the color of sun-warmed earth, flecked…
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Beyond the Valley
There was a morning not long ago when dawn slipped quietly through the windows of my office, washing the room in soft, golden light. Before the emails arrived, before the meetings began, before the world asked anything of me, there was only stillness. I wrapped my hands around a warm mug of coffee and let…
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Every Room
Every Room I’ve spent a surprising amount of my life wondering if I was in the right room, not always literally, though sometimes that too. The conference room where I wondered if I belonged at the table. The hospital room where time seemed to stand still. The classroom filled with girls carrying stories far heavier…
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The Slow Work of God
I have spent more of my life than I care to admit trying to hurry God. For the past couple of years, I have carried one prayer with me, like a pressed wildflower hidden in a treasured book, fragile and fragrant. It is penned in the margins of my journals, in whispered prayers during long…
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The Olive Tree
I dreamt last night of an olive tree in a place where the sun is poured into stone and where gilded afternoons fade to slate blue dusk. Sun-worn trees, rooted in a land that makes no promises and yet still leaves room for life. Olive trees, bedded in ground that does not welcome them. Not…
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Sweet Melancholy
There is something about Louisiana in the odd uneven throes of August. Despite the muggy heat, the Mississippi Delta air is surprisingly pleasant, soft like silk on skin, honeysuckle, and swamp magnolias hanging in the atmosphere. It is another world really, a watery dreamland where massive bald cypress trees rise from the water draped with…
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Ivy Jane
Ivy Jane was not like other little girls. With coffee-colored curls and rich mahogany skin, she had a magnetic way of commanding a room. Behind the beautiful glow of mischief in her dusty brown eyes was a silent and mystifying yearning. And like the sound of a classical piano, her soul swayed through the profound…
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Deep Waters
I love the quiet ferocity of the sea. There is something magical and yet menacing in the wet, briny air, silver at dawn, and deep blue at noon. I am drawn to it, an unpredictable living thing, calm and welcoming, with open arms to embrace its audience one moment, and explosive and quick-tempered the next,…
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What If?
Today I wore a pair of threadbare yoga pants and an unembellished oversized sweatshirt. I have yet to shower, and the pallor of my face is make-up free. In the blush of early morning, I grabbed a worn-out blanket to cover myself, though the air outside is moderate and welcoming. Life can be so slippery. …
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Too Much
I could feel the familiar catch in my throat, and the sting of tears in my eyes as the noise of the room grew in uncomfortable tension. I was steadfast, optimistic, and overprepared for what the morning meeting would hold – or so I believed. But there were veiled ambushes and pointed statements, and the…