Am I Enough?

Am I enough? Loved ones are miles away, literally and figuratively

Friends are wounded, hurting

The world is fractured and grieving

New paths, new people to serve and love

It sometimes seems that we just brush by one another as we hurry through life, a nod or a wave is sufficient, not taking time to look in each other’s eyes and truly connect

Or we lash out in our passion for righteousness and justice 

While the human on the other end builds a walk around their own sense of righteousness and justice. 

What is enough? Am I enough?

I’m just me – learning, growing, passionate, longing, striving 

Leaning on my God as he guides my heart, or patiently waits in the wings while I take a detour
I will listen.

I will speak up. 

I will come alongside. 

I will love. 

I will show up. 
And that is enough ❤️


Early summer evenings in Louisville, Kentucky can mean wind and thunderstorms or sweltering humidity. But tonight is the perfect night. 

As dusk settles over our neighborhood, I walk out onto our front porch and let out a long sigh. With a slow, deep breath I take in the sweet smell of the almost-summer evening. I close my eyes and feel the warm air caress my arms and the back of my neck under my messy bun. The air is warm but dry, none of the usual humidity that plagues many summer nights. A sweet breeze blows and it feels comforting.

I walk across the street, the pavement still warm from this clear, sunny day. Just across the sidewalk are cement stairs that lead down to the track at the School for the Blind.  As I approach the stairway, my heart quickens. 

The fireflies are here! 

I was born and raised in the West Coast, and the only fireflies I had ever seen were the fake ones in the bayou scenes in the Pirates of the Carribean ride at Disneyland. When we moved to Louisville last July, I was thrilled to see a few fireflies here and there. I’m hoping I’ll see a few tonight. 

The cyclone fence along the road and leading to the stairway is lined with towering trees and low lying bushes, which makes a shadowy sanctuary in the fading light. Before I even reach the top of the stairway, there is a flash in the corner of my eye. As I scan the stairway and the cool green grass leading down the hill to the track, a chorus of twinkling yellow lights greets me. In the shadows, down the hill, on the lawn, around the curves of the track, fireflies at every turn. Everywhere I look, beautiful twinkling yellow flashes of light. 

Walking my laps, my heart fills with joy at this little blessing. I’m not sure how little flying beatles flashing their hind ends looking for a mate can make me so very happy, but it does. 

I’m walking a brisk pace, and every ten to twenty feet a little lightening bug buzzes across my path, as if he’s slowly leading the way. I could reach out and touch him, but I don’t. I stray off my lane to follow him, off the track and onto the grass, slowly floating in the air in front of me, occasionally flashing his tail if I lose him, as if he wants me to follow him. At one point, he seems to almost stop in mid air. He slowly floats near my face, flashes me a short greeting, and flies away. 

Thank you, Lord, for this sweet little blessing tonight. It made my heart flicker with a little light of hope and joy. 

#StandWithOrlando – Love One Another

* My thoughts and prayers are with the victims, their family and friends, law enforcement and other first responders, the city of Orlando, and the LGBT community on this day of the shooting at Pulse in Orlando. This is just a tiny perspective of a much larger story. 

I cannot think straight. This day has punched me in the stomach. Early this morning I woke up to the news of a horrible shooting in a nightclub in Orlando, Florida. As the day unfolded, it was soon apparent that this was the worst mass shooting in US history, fueled by terrorist hate.

The first thing I did was text my son. My son is college age, and he lives in Orlando. He is straight but he has friends who happen to be gay, and I know they go to clubs and bars downtown sometimes, so it was possible that he had been at Pulse last night.

I was traveling all day, flying from Portland, Oregon home to Louisville, Kentucky.

I just wanted to know that he was okay.

When I texted him, he thought I was talking about another shooting the night before, in Orlando, where a rising star from “The Voice” was gunned down after a concert.

When I first texted him, they did not have a final death count.

I can’t believe I am writing this, these words


gunned down

death count

*PS – This post is not to debate gun laws or LGBT rights or hate crimes or terrorism or evangelical Christianity. I CAN’T EVEN deal right now. So don’t even try.

Words elude me, so I’ll let the story speak for itself.

Unfortunately, the attention quickly turned from the victims and became a political platform, every side looking past the tragic loss of souls and exploiting the situation to fit their own agenda.

Please just stop.


Their bodies weren’t even cold, and even now, 12 hours later, they haven’t even been identified. Honor the victims and shut your damn mouths. (Can’t you at least wait 24 hours before y’all start acting like a**holes?)

(My son works for Disney and I wondered if any of his coworkers were victims.)

I’m still processing today. Since others spoke much more elegantly about the situation today, here are two of the best posts I’ve read today about the Orlando shooting (and as usual, don’t read the comments if you want to avoid feeling hopeless about humanity)

From Kristen Howerton’s Facebook

And from Jen Hatmaker’s Facebook 

And now I’m going to hibernate from social media and the world

To grieve

And heal just a bit before going on.




Learning to Stop

Our idea of a ‘relaxing’ vacation is a 15 day road trip from Vancouver WA to New Orleans (and back again). We like adventures and cramming as much fun as we can into whatever time we have away from home. Yesterday as we left Vancouver, Washington we drove to see so many places that feed our soul in the beautiful Columbia Gorge

and then to the Oregon Coast.

It was a beautiful drive down the coast to so many of the places we love.

And then we arrived at our hotel.

The marine layer had set in so there was no beautiful sunset, and the air was humid and was starting to chill. The hotel was a little more dive-y than I remembered, but it’s a king sized bed with an ocean view and a fireplace and the man I love, and who can really complain about that?

We weren’t hungry, it was getting dark, and we didn’t really want to go anywhere, but

our restless souls found it hard to JUST BE.

This week my goal is to not try to fill every minute with busy-ness. Right now I’m purposely lying in bed writing this as opposed to rushing around to get ready. We have all day. The sound of the ocean outside my door, the waves crashing within my sight. I brought four books but I haven’t cracked one.

I want to be still, relax, read, write, take in the beauty of where I’m at, and allow my soul to refresh and recharge.

And my husband just said, “Are you getting up? Come on, let’s go!”

It’s a learning process for us both.





The Places We Call Home

It is strange to return to a place that is no longer Home. Every street familiar, around every corner a lingering memory. Homes in which we have lived, homes of friends, the park where we walked, a carpool route, a riverside path, a favorite restaurant, that most familiar grocery store, the schools where your children learned and played and grew to become young men, the churches where you laughed and cried and loved. 

But we no longer have a physical home here. It now joins a list of places in our hearts that fill us with a joyful sense of home, a place of peaceful belonging. We have so many: the Oregon Coast, Central Oregon, Portland, Disneyland, the Columbia Gorge, Mt. Hood, Yellowstone – actually most of the national parks in the western states, Hawaii. 

And now Vancouver, Washington joins a list that was built upon so many beautiful times shared with family and friends, walking through life, so many hours traveling and on the road, raising our families, exploring back yards and open roads. Our special collection of places we call home in the amazing adventure we call Life. 

Where are the places you call home?