My Japanese magnolias bloom for exactly two weeks each March, shocking me even when I know they're coming. Like Nandy who died while I wrote last Tuesday—we just don't know how much time we have. This is my last March with these trees.
Nature & Reflections
How Italy Taught Me to Own Every Part of Myself
In Italy, I could be the woman I really am—faith and all. Here's what I learned about going with the flow, embracing interruptions, and finding freedom in flat tires.
Understanding Yourself: Confessions of an ENFJ’s Journey to Self-Awareness
Taking the Myers-Briggs personality test in counseling revealed truths about myself I'd never fully understood. Here's what I learned about being an ENFJ and how it transformed my relationships.
The Day I Wielded a Pick Axe and Found My Resurrection
After a devastating fight with Charming, I spent seven hours in my garden wondering if dry bones can live. Here's what Ezekiel's vision taught me about hope, growth, and fairy tale endings.
Planting Seeds and Wondering: When Will I Have My Own Blank Slate?
Starting 144 seedlings from scratch, I know exactly what each will become. Watching my student Young Beauty and friends' children, I dream of my own blank slate—but first, Charming has to choose me.
The February Beach Day That Saved Me From My Winter of Waiting
I'd been asking God for a sign about motherhood when He gave me a seventy-degree day in February instead. Here's what I learned about footprints in the sand and everyday miracles.
Twin Birthday Cakes and Tiny Carrots: What My Garden Taught Me About Raising Humans
My niece's eyes lit up when I pulled a carrot from the soil like magic. As I frosted two different cakes for two different girls, I realized: we know what we're planting in gardens, but children? They come without labels.
The Evening Glories Need Untangling—But First I Have to Learn to Stop Fixing Everything
In twilight's storm, I resist untangling vines that double over themselves. My need to fix things—phones, weddings, people—is almost palpable. I couldn't sit in church service; I had to be in the AV booth with control. Sometimes facing worry means not taking action. Sometimes you sit still with tangled vines and wait for inspiration.
Missing Golf Balls, Growing Cucumbers, and the Size 8 Dress That Changed Everything
I can't hit a golf ball to save my life, but I squeezed into that bridesmaid dress. Sometimes thriving means accepting you're terrible at Top Golf while celebrating the herbs finally sprouting in your garden.
Thirty Feet Underground, Granite Taught Me We’re All Tending the Wrong Garden
Spring cleaning attacked my surfaces—dust, pounds, garden blooms. Then water on granite in a wine cellar showed me what I couldn't see: we focus on visible beauty while our roots determine everything. Physical health doesn't reflect the emotional, spiritual, mental. What good is a clean house when you're six feet under?
Writer's Growth 