Eighty Tuesday nights on my therapist's couch after my divorce, now twenty Tuesday nights writing on my porch. Same healing process, different love seat—but I finally crossed the bridge from death to life.
Faith & Mental Health
Grammy’s Morning Glories Opened at Dawn—My Evening Glories Bloom for First Dates
Kneeling in my garden with moonflower seeds, I became my grandmother thirty years later. The packet said 'evening glory,' and suddenly I was watching Grammy's morning glories from her kitchen window. Three days of rain made me lose faith in tiny seeds—but nature was just pre-soaking them the way I couldn't.
When Why’s Lack Faith
In my brother's theater room, I first considered divorce. Now the firewood from my fallen oak sits uncollected—like my faith, once alive and thriving, now silent with an uncertain future. Why ask why at all?
Writer's Growth 