Meet Seattle Monkey. I found him on the back shelf of a gift shop in the Seattle–Tacoma International Airport, right after my husband and I arrived for our vacation.
I had to have Seattle Monkey. I had to take his picture with the Seattle–Tacoma International Airport sign.
And so it began. Continue reading
She finally admitted to herself that it was hot when the first drop of sweat rolled down her cheek and fell into the dusty earth. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear, even though she knew it wouldn’t stay. Continue reading
It doesn’t even sound like something to hope for. In our culture “Salvation” sounds incredibly outdated and restrictive. Like if I have found salvation, I have agreed to follow a certain set of rules, and I have agreed to shove those rules into every person I run across whether it makes a mess or not.
Today in our house, salvation looks a whole lot like an empty crawl space. Continue reading
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.”
Emily Dickinson
Hold tight to it, demand of it and Hope, elusive, slips away. Like a bird in a cage, without freedom its colors fade.
Given fresh air, Hope resonates.
Hope is wild. It thrives in its natural habitat.
Hope sneaks up on you when you least expect it.
Hope can’t be told what to do, or how to do it.
Hope is rebellious, disruptive and out of control.
Hope is unruly.
Unruly Hope 