I can still feel dirt trapped in the corners of the shoes I’m wearing today. I didn’t expect to come home with dirt in my shoes. I also didn’t expect it to make me cry this morning, when I slid my feet into them, because I miss Jerusalem and my Israel Collective family. Since returning from
The older I get, the more I realize I can’t often just categorize experiences as GOOD or BAD, painful or happy. It seems that events and moments tend to mix together like a casserole. I had an experience like this recently, and wrote about it over at (in)courage. It’s important to me to be honest with
I think I had a really unique experience growing up. As in, some of the friends that I was in church choir with when we were four years old are still important people in my life, thirty years later. It’s just kind of the way of my hometown. It’s not that it’s super small, it’s
When I was a teenager, my parents put me on restriction for one of two reasons: I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to do. Where I wanted to go, they didn’t want me to go, and the only way to protect me was to ground me. When I was on restriction, it meant no
Yesterday, I went to Starbucks and got my free drink. It was a total treat. I went for venti soy chai instead of grande, because nothing says HAPPY BIRTHDAY like a massive Starbucks drink that costs me zero dollars. The sweet guy at the drive-thru window said, “it’s your birthday tomorrow? I’m guessing you’ll be 20?” with
I haven’t blogged in a month. I’m so sorry, y’all. If you were around these parts for the writing phase of Let’s All Be Brave in 2013, you probably haven’t been all that surprised. When I’m writing, I’m quieter here. I don’t mean to be, I just run out of words by the end of the work
Every week, I go to an amazingly fun workout class called b.fab.fitness. The local community center’s gymnasium fills up with women of all kinds and for an hour, we dance and shake and squat and have really the best time exercising that you could ever imagine. Like, I love it. There’s not a lot of
I got a card in the mail last week from a favorite 12-year-old. She’s the daughter of a friend of mine and someone I spend a good amount of time with. I love getting snail mail — handwritten, thought out, and no delete button or ability to edit. In fact, halfway through her card she
It was a cold cold day in February when the roommate and I decided that if we were gonna be snowed in, we were starting a show on Netflix that would could binge and binge hard. People have told me for years that they thought I’d love Friday Night Lights since I’m a sports lovin’
Tonight, my small group ends. After three and a half years together, more tears and laughs than we could ever count, and dinner together every Tuesday night, it’s over. I just can’t even believe it. Aren’t they the most beautiful humans you’ve ever seen? (A few are missing from this picture, but trust me- they
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