Writing

Soulbooks Last week I was too busy managing Quinton and his mound of glitter on his SoulBook to take pictures of our group for you. (The meeting before I have no excuse. I guess I was just focused on living in the moment.) Fortunately, Billie Jo has done an excellent job of sending me photos… READ MORE >>

Ursula K. Le Guin died this week. I had another plan for this post but now she has died and it’s all I want to write about. When I first heard the news on the radio, my heart dropped. I was almost home and my big red van was cresting one of those small hills… READ MORE >>

This Sunday is the day! We’ll be crafting our SoulBooks by cutting, gluing, sharing stories, and smiling. All the while, we’ll be remembering what’s most important to us. Here’s what Diane, Ruth, and I worked up for our first day: Introductions and setting an intention for ourselves Share exerpts from Braving the Wilderness by Brene… READ MORE >>

Cotton candy can come right before betrayal.  Here’s how in Part Two of “East and West.” (Click here to see Part 1 in a previous post.) Rachel, the clarinet player I’d been hanging out with since Ally dropped me, said we should go to the concessions to grab some fries during the third quarter when… READ MORE >>

Last year, a video of Sumner and Lincoln High schools’ drumlines in friendly competition caught my ear. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8h0vZPhz-JM   My trumpet-playing teenager stood next to those lines as band members from all around waited over an hour for the 2017 Orting Daffodil Parade to start. The sound of the drums beating and competing their rhythms… READ MORE >>

“How’s the writing going?” People ask me this often and I try not to dread the question. But I sometimes do. No matter how you slice it, I’ve been writing for years–decades even. I began journaling and making stories just for myself since I first learned to write and then writing with an idea about… READ MORE >>

So here’s a thing that happens to me with writing. If I write something awful, starting the next piece feels like wading through a muck-filled bog. “What if it stinks of skunk cabbage like last time?” I ask myself. If I write something wonderful, starting the next piece feels like wading though a muck-filled bog. “It can never be… READ MORE >>

I’ve learned priceless lessons from the transformation of a worship space into a gigantic place for trash that becomes treasures. Resist the ridiculous.We all have mountains of things like odd plastic mittens and pots that might be warmers but are not. The next time I see full price boot mitts for my Halloween costume, I will picture the teetering pile… READ MORE >>

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