My garden looks dreadful. Here’s why. My plants won’t cooperate. The iris wants to be an iris. The azalea, an azalea. The poppy, a poppy. Read more.
My Rocky Spiritual Journey
You don't have to be a big believer to find something interesting to read here . . . You'll find excerpts from the spiritual journeys of people I've met on the religion beat as well as reports of my own fraught encounters with religion and spirituality . . . as well as updates on my book, "Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith," from Patheos Press.
Spotted: Red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil
When I spotted a pair of red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil, my meditations flitted from shopping to death and resurrection and back to shopping. Read more.
Not Dead Yet. That Feral Plum Tree Lives On
The old plum tree lying on its side was a messy scramble of black and useless branches. But it was not dead yet. Read more.
Widowed: He’s Pushing Up a Daisy
I checked in on Jon the other day and I found him right where we’d buried him. He was pushing up a daisy. Just one. Read more.
Widowed: The One Good Thing About Grief
The one good thing about grief is — there’s not a darned thing you can do about it. Someone has died, and that’s that. Read more.
Widowed: He’s Still Not Back and It’s Been Three Years
Where is Jon? I’ve been widowed three years and I’m still expecting him to come back. It’s not possible that he is gone for good, snuffed out. Read more.
Widowed: The Things My Husband Wanted. (Or, We Are What We Want)
I feel the sharpest grief when I picture my husband alive and wanting something, planning something — picking out artichokes for dinner, making a grandchild laugh. Read more.