When my daughter was born, a dear friend gave me a framed poster of inspirational parental advice. It began with, “Say yes more often.” Twenty-six years later that line continues to echo in my heart.
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I look back at photos of my brothers, sisters and I in our Easter finery and wonder, ‘how did she do it?’
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During a brief archeological dig in my attic I uncovered a box of words tucked into the eaves. Cards and letters tied with ribbons - tattered corners, ruffled edges. How carefully safeguarded they were in the wooden box that has protected so many memories - fragments of days and years and even lifetimes that have passed.
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I was a teacher for more than thirty years-a most noble profession. Teaching involves creating an ever-expanding family of kids and parents and grandparents-people you will never forget, people that you come to love.
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I was part of a big family in a small house-tiny really-three small bedrooms and one bathroom for eight of us-six kids and my parents. I spent some time sleeping on a cot in the hallway and even more time in a highly unfinished, musty basement.
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I was trying to access the patient portal and receive my medical information. One of the security questions was- “what was your childhood nickname?”
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A pair of Carolina wrens are boarding in our garage. We open the automatic door each morning and they hop out, fly to the river birch and often sing a song or two-a song of thanks-a song to each other-a song to welcome a new day.
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I have often thought that the word ‘yield’ could stand alone as a spiritual path
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