I don’t have a lot to say. Just that this is my white space. My days are full crowded with noise and work. Recently it’s decisions and worry. But everything has to drop and I pick up the lens to rightly see little boys in golden light. Night falling and they are still full to...
Many days I’m blind. Hands placed decidedly across my eyes or hiding behind a wall, to timid to peek out. Some days just too dead tired to lift my head and look. But the story is still there, revealed by each artist, shared by His body – wether I choose to witness or not. To...
There are days where the world spins right, all painted with beauty. Days when the smiles and silly and growing things are enough.When the feel of your desk solid and the tea warm make your heart sigh gratitude. There are days I am content and worry takes a backseat to all His goodness poured out...
I’m not good at making lemonade. 33 and I had never made it before. I don’t think I’m good at motherhood. I’m a mess . . . Can’t even qualify for a hot mess, just a mess. I have commenced drinking coffee. Me whose head already spins in circles . . . finally acknowledging...
“The artist, if he is not to forget how to listen, must retain the vision which includes angels and dragons and unicorns, and all the lovely creatures which our world would put in a box marked CHILDREN ONLY.” – Madeleine L’Engle in Walking on Water You can find the first half of this session here. We...
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