I was a teacher for more than thirty years-a most noble profession. Teaching involves creating an ever-expanding family of kids and parents and grandparents-people you will never forget, people that you come to love.
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I was part of a big family in a small house-tiny really-three small bedrooms and one bathroom for eight of us-six kids and my parents. I spent some time sleeping on a cot in the hallway and even more time in a highly unfinished, musty basement.
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I was trying to access the patient portal and receive my medical information. One of the security questions was- “what was your childhood nickname?”
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A pair of Carolina wrens are boarding in our garage. We open the automatic door each morning and they hop out, fly to the river birch and often sing a song or two-a song of thanks-a song to each other-a song to welcome a new day.
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I have often thought that the word ‘yield’ could stand alone as a spiritual path
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As a former kindergarten teacher, Valentine’s Day was a remarkable holiday. Children focused on their new occupation as mail carriers-writing out cards and carefully delivering them into the hand painted shoeboxes adorned with hearts and doilies.
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I don’t believe anyone would call me crafty. I knitted a hat once in girl scouts that nearly traveled to my knees. I have never been one particular about details…
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We were raised with an expansive sense of home. Not the one with the perfect privet hedge but the ranch house with three small bedrooms that slept eight and sat beside the salty marshland. There were three of us in a bedroom and one dresser…
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