Mother’s Day comes quiet and loud for someone like me.Holding both ache and awe,grief and gladness braided like a wildflower vine. I am a mother.To three forever wonders—never here,yet always, always here.In breath, in heartbeat, in dream and prayer.In the way
Introvert. Low bandwidth—often thanks to pain. And still, not once have I regretted making time for my people. The ones who love me well, who let me love them right back, and who let me show up exactly as I am. Tears. Laughter.
Being an entrepreneur means showing up—even on the days you really, really, really don’t want to. Some days, you just don’t want to people.Some days, what’s on your calendar feels heavier than you can carry.And still… you show up. There’s this tension
After I thanked her for showing up and loving me, her text read:“Showing up and loving each other—this is what we do.Because it’s what you have taught me.It’s the only way to live.” When your people have done the courage work
Thirteen years ago today, we rescued Gertie and Gracie. Two tiny, ridiculous littermates who walked into our lives just as we were grieving what would never be. Today is their Gotcha Day. Their last one together.Our last day as a family of
No full family photo for us this Resurrection Sunday. We’ve been hunkered down, soaking up the last sacred days with our sweet Gracie, and I’ve been moving through a pretty intense pain flare. I did catch this photo of our three today—and
I guarantee every single person you come into contact with today is carrying at least one of the following… Someone they miss.A pain you can’t see.Overwhelm that’s creeping in.Worries left unspoken.Grief that’s complicated.A dream not yet realized.A prayer not yet answered.A
It’s been a full few weeks, so it was time for some cabin time. Spring is always our favorite—the first blooms, the clear creek, and yes, another check for flood damage (thankfully, none). But this trip is different. It’s our last
