A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a link on Twitter to an article about a photo of actor Julie Bowen breastfeeding her twins. There was some fuss made about her desire to show the photo when she appeared on The View. The talk show made a decision not to display it, which had some breastfeeding advocates up in arms about our culture’s willingness to display breasts when it comes to sexuality but hide from them when breasts are actually… Read more

Tonight as Chris, freshly home from work, sat on our bed, removing his shoes while August climbed on the comforter around him, he said: “I have sad news.” “Ah, man.” I said, thinking his sad news would involve his having to work when we’d already scheduled something wonderful. It wasn’t that. “I got a call today from Phil’s wife, Jennifer. He died. The funeral’s later this week.” Phil was our next-door neighbor in our town outside Philadelphia. A small African… Read more

Yes, it’s already evening on the east coast and I haven’t written since Thursday. But, despite my failures at posting, it’s never too late to celebrate Thankful Tuesday. Today I want to speak gratefully about the life of my main squeeze, aka spouse, aka father of my child: the always dapper Christopher Hohorst, who finally joined me this past Sunday in the realm of the thirties. (I have to admit I love going into ages 10 months ahead of the… Read more

“Coming Home” is such a cliché. Remember in Sleepless in Seattle when Tom Hanks describes how he loved his deceased wife (I know his words by heart): “It was like coming home. Only to, to no home I’d ever known before….I was just reaching out to take her hand…” Ahhh. Sleepless in Seattle. I will not blame an overused metaphor on you. You are as delicious as dark chocolate and decaf black tea with milk. No. Coming home became a… Read more

I’m on vacation. Sitting by the pool at my mother in law’s home, waiting for a procession of dear friends to arrive and depart all day long. What could be more lovely than sitting in a swim suit, drinking sparkling water, letting old friends come to me? So I’ll keep Thankful Tuesday short today. I’m thankful because I’ve lately been reminded of a prayer of St. Patrick that used to be a part of my daily prayer routine a few… Read more

Yes, fellow poet nerds:  I’ve found a new poem for the month of June. I’ve been looking around a while, agonizing, trying to find something contemporary, perhaps less lyrical than we’ve been focusing on so far. And maybe even something spiritually moving for us (0r at least for me). Jeanne Murray Walker is new to me. I’ve never read her work.  All I really know is that she’s a poet who teaches at the University of Delaware and “Staying Power”… Read more

Friends, This process of writing to you almost every day is a strange one. And I have to say that sometimes it gets a little embarrassing. I’m striving to be authentic and vulnerable as I share about my life as a mother, in hopes that those of you out in the blog-reading abyss might somehow connect and be encouraged. But I’ll admit I spent all afternoon Wednesday regretting what a complainer I was in my last blog entry. How many… Read more

I’ve recently begun reading A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World by Paul E. Miller. As I read yesterday, I was struck by these words Miller quoted from Thomas Merton: “Prayer is an expression of who we are…We are a living incompleteness. We are a gap, an emptiness that calls for completeness.” What if my failures at prayer—my inability to concentrate, the consistent distractions, my lack of belief—actually made me a better person of prayer? What if… Read more

Memorial Day and Thankful Tuesday are joining forces today. As I type, it’s still Monday; but I have no doubt that as you read, Tuesday will be shining on your pretty faces. So, let me refer to Robert Frost when I remind us that a dried brook is only a brook to those who remember long. And on that note, I will now take some time to remember, thankfully. On Memorial Day I have to think about my grandfathers (still… Read more

I wrote before that I’ve never really studied Robert Frost. But I was drawn to “Hyla Brook” partly because it seemed appropriate for our entry into summer. (Soon it will be hot enough to dry up brooks everywhere but in San Francisco. Have I complained yet about how much I can’t stand San Francisco’s noncommittal weather systems?) I was also drawn to its rhythm and form. The day I chose “Hyla Brook” as our poem for May, my husband commented… Read more

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