October. Growing up the month meant, above all, sand and water. The leaves turned; we packed the station wagon with coolers and towels and kites and puzzles; we drove out of the city, past Mt. Rainier, through woods, and toward the coast.
Author: Jenny Webb
The Write Question
A question that keeps coming back to me: does God write?
Psalms
Julio stood behind the blue door, waiting. Blanca stood there too.
At Play
My daughter loves to play on the hardwood floor next to the stone hearth behind the wooden rocking chair. She is one. I keep on thinking this is an accident waiting to happen and tend to move the chair, spread the toys away from the hearth, and sit down beside her just in case.
The Marilynne Robinson Post
I have been thinking about Marilynne Robinson lately …
Another Sabbath
Opening Exercises: my girls stretched on hard chairs, schooled hands still seeking their phones; leaders whispered, heads together, in the back; we settled into our common rhythms—every week the same.
Breakfast Thoughts
I am eating an egg and thinking about all those women.