Merry Christmas lovely friends!
I’m wishing you all a restful holiday, so tangibly full of joy and goodness that you are able to hold it in your hands and keep it in your heart for always.
I’m mindful that the holidays are hard for so many. That they aren’t all twinkle lights and I’ll Be Home For Christmas. If that’s you, know you are not alone (you may relate to this post I wrote last year). I’m praying for you.
I’m praying for all . . . that the Prince of Peace that came on Christmas Day would gift us all with peace this year.
“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
You and me. This past year when I’ve looked at your face I’ve seen mine. Not mine now, but mine then. Chipmunk cheeks, a gap-toothed grin, freckles sprinkled across a button nose. It’s strange and amazing to look at the kid you never saw in the mirror.
Heaven knew we needed each other.
In the 1980’s and the here and now.
This is a story, a tribute, a mini-memoir, of my relationship with grandma who spent the last year of her life mentoring me.
I know. You are rolling your eyes at “Instead of Coffee” Green Smoothie. I would be too. Except that I drink this green juice (as I call it), these days, instead of coffee. It’s the closest quick hit of drinkable energy that I’ve found.
I stopped drinking coffee because . . .
Most days I spill words, like I do my coffee, burning, aromatic, luke-warm, sometimes stale, straight into my white, hard covered, journal with my inky black pen. I write what I feel and what I feel might overtake me, maybe already has, and mostly how hope wraps itself around me like my favorite blanket tucked tight like a burrito. All year long, I pour out my thoughts like a kettle who’s water is screeching ready. If I don’t pour . . . .