The Smell of Savannah Rain
I’m not sure I will ever forget the smell of the warm rain on the African savannah. It was powerful and earthy, the kind of smell that seemed to rise from the ground itself as the first drops touched the warm, rust-colored sand. Everything around me felt more alive. So did something inside me.
Joshua
I met Joshua randomly on a pirate miniature golf course in Florida. It was one of those ordinary vacation moments that wasn’t supposed to become anything more than a round of golf and some time together as a family. And then Joshua walked into our path. “So, what are our names, friends?”
The Onions of Pig Corner
Every fall, the onion trucks would come. You could see them lumbering down the open country roads of Hooper, Utah, their beds piled impossibly high with enormous onions pulled fresh from the fields. And then they would come to Pig Corner. The turn was tight enough that something wonderful occasionally happened. They lost their onions.
Becoming My Own Mona Lisa
A masterpiece does not become valuable because the world gathers around it. Its worth existed before anyone recognized it.
What the Waves Could Not Take
Joy does not only live in the finished room. Joy is in the becoming.
The Art of Becoming
Joy does not only live in the finished room. Joy is in the becoming.
Pruned for Spring
Being pruned does not mean being diminished. Sometimes it means being prepared.