6.27.20 Sugar and Stars


This was a commissioned piece for a mother to her daughter … but I thought all the lovely young summer girl hearts out there needed to hear it. Thank you sweet Jocelyn for inspiring it. Catch your dreams beautiful … they await you.


She is made of sugar and stars half of her heart beats ethereal, spinning above circumstances toward dreams

Spending time like she holds it in abundance
hers is a mind occupied
with feathers and wishes
ocean breezes and windows that carry stories of history –
and of lighter times … when the world made more sense than now

Halves of two wholes
her days are shared both in reality
and aspiration
imagining what precious world could be waiting for her just around a bend of years
just around a series of questions yet to be lived through

To dreamers as she,
who dwell in tea party thoughts
and long days that taste of raspberries, life is nothing if not hopeful

There is no doubt that certain stars shine brighter
just to tempt her with the promise of the possibilities they hold performing in the sky today for her alone
calling her with the understanding
that she is one of their own
and her sweet existence
is nothing short of divine

6.17.20 16 Years


I got married when I was 21. At the time I thought nothing of age. I was in love; I was sure. Only now, after 16 years of marriage do I understand how young 21 really was … do I fathom the gravity of faith it took for both sets of our parents to give us their whole-hearted blessing.

We were kids.

We’d had so very little life experience … and yet I am profoundly grateful to my husband, for choosing me, for saying yes to me, and most of all – for growing up with me. I know it sounds like an odd place to emphasize so much gratitude, but for me, it’s not.

Growing up is scary. It’s hard. There are so many times, even now, that I don’t know what I’m doing or how I’m going to do it, that I don’t know how to feel about what’s coming at me. Sometimes the world is just too much for a spirit like mine that just wants to be free, and play, and pretend.

My husband grounds me without stifling my whimsy. He walks through the questions with me, and when we can’t find the answers, we wait together. I find it supremely perfect that his name is Matthew and that it translates to, “Gift of God,” because he is. He always loves me, even when I don’t deserve it. He’s always on my side, even when it doesn’t benefit him to be so.

After 16 years, we might be older, but we’re still growing up. Looking at this weary world, I’m still not sure what I’m doing … I just couldn’t be more grateful that it is together.

6.6.20 Hero & Legend


“Heroes get remembered, but legends never die.” Babe Ruth

I know this photograph is candid and imperfect. If I’d been focused, I might have asked my husband to put down his coffee cup and mail. I would have suggested him and my father-in-law to move two feet aside so that there wouldn’t be an obscure basketball hoop and half a truck in the shot. There are a lot of things that I could have done to make this picture, esthetically “more pleasing,” and yet … it is one of my favorites … because of the two men in it … and because of the radiant, pride-filled smiles on both of their faces.

When Matthew and I started dating – in the fresh moments of getting to know all there is to know about one another, one of the first things I noted was the way he spoke of his father. He talked about him almost reverently, and I can honestly say, that I do not ever, remember him saying anything negative about him in the past nineteen years we’ve been together. Every quirk was marked as endearing. Every obstacle or setback was spoken of with starry-eyed reflection, furthering Matthew’s adoration of a man who knew how to make the best out of a situation, or rise stronger after a fall.

My father-in-law wasn’t my husband’s dad – he was his hero, and this week he was taken from the world and finally given his proper placement in heaven … where all heroes should be. But you know what? It still leaves us shattered. Even expecting it … even knowing it was coming doesn’t soften the blow.

My father-in-law suffered from Ataxia and Multiple Systems Atrophy. He was diagnosed over ten years ago, and while he wasn’t in pain, this lethal combination of diseases slowly took away his ability to walk, to speak, and eventually, to swallow and breathe. As he slowly began to fade, a stranger might have seen a man reduced to humility and weakness … but my Matthew championed his father to the end as a glorified conqueror. He only saw the courage – the faith – the bravery. And I looked on with constant awe, at the impermeable strength of a father’s influence over his son, and a son’s desire to become just like his dad.

My father-in-law spoke in actions more than in words … in laughter, in service, and devotion. His last words were, “I love you … I love you … I love you.” And dad … we loved you too, and nothing about the distance between heaven and earth can change it. Legends are eternal that way.