“Muscle who?!”

When first meeting my husband, Bob, he introduced himself as a native of  “Muscle Shoals.” He thought I would recognize Muscle Shoals rather than Sheffield, the Shoals town where he was raised. Like any other Yankee, I responded, “Muscle who?” That’s when he began to tell me about…

Losing Life and Growing My Garden

My yard grew freely the past two summers. My husband had died in August of 2012. Since then, I have been too busy trying to figure out my life. Currently and thankfully, I’m recovering from depression. The winter kept kicking out waves of arctic blasts. It was too…

Why I Go to Counseling: My Messy Beautiful

by Caroline McGraw I’ve never shared this in a public forum before, but here goes: I go to counseling twice a month. The stigma of seeking support is lifting – in fact, April is Counseling Awareness month – but it still takes courage to admit it. Why? Because when…

Cross My Heart, Hope to Die, Stick A Needle in My Eye

Alright, maybe not in the eye—but, stick a needle or two, or even twenty, anywhere else on me and I might be okay with that. I am a converted believer in the power of acupuncture. Don’t worry, Doctor, I’m not ready to jump the Tardis and leave modern…

Home on the Free Range

My lady Tisha, and I are big into using nutrition for maintaining our general health and well being.  So, I thought I’d share what we did a few weeks ago, and will be doing again soon. We went to our local organic farmers market to purchase vegetables. In…

I Was A Weary Traveler

I was a weary traveler, I rode the less trodden path, felt the dust sting my eyes. I lay in fast pursuit of that which I knew existed, Of love without judgment, of acceptance without rules, of truly amazing grace. And with out-stretched hands I reached …to grasp…

Embracing the Power of Hot Water

I have been drinking a lot of hot water lately. I am close to finishing my first full year working as an English teacher in China. After almost a year in this vast, booming, ancient country, I have learned more about the culture and myself than I could…

HEALING When You Can’t Help

Seven years ago, with my five children grown, I found that I still had a little maternal ‘juice’ left and began to mentor a young man of twelve, who I will call Andre. He and his younger sister were my summer gardening helpers. For them I was a…

Flow of Life and Healing

I have a stunning, dark as ebony, beloved, singin’ west side of Chicago friend, who once told me I was her real, first “white” friend. It startled me! I asked her how that could possibly be, when I knew, as a pastor’s wife, she now had many women…