This is real. This is happening.

It took me twenty-five (or 65?) years to write and publish my first book, and now she is finally here.

I am excited. Terrified. Delighted. Freaked out! It doesn’t feel real. I keep repeating, “This is real. This is happening,” and reminding myself to breathe and pray. Pray and breathe. And,

do the things that got me here, and maybe lay down for a spell.

A part of me wants to ask that you consider buying and reading my book. That girl stands awkwardly – head down, drawing lazy circles in the dust with the toe of her shoe. Or in fast, fresh flashes of uncharacteristic courage, she stands arms akimbo – ready to squarely face the indifference or criticisms as they come, or don’t. But, here is the thing.

All of me knows, in the seat of my soul, that this moment deserves celebration and gratitude for being given the opportunity to share from my heart, and for taking the time (and heartache) to try and do my very best. And, surprisingly to me, that knowing seems to be enough to lay this book down right here and walk away to whatever is next. [Order ROSETEARS here.]

Dusty Corners


I believe this time, this very strange and terrifying time without borders or end dates, magnifies all feelings and circumstances that have been laying fallow—waiting for our attention and in care of our soul. I believe in these hours and days of isolation and stillness, what has been buried or obscured by busyness or distraction is rising—insisting to be seen. Noticed. Dealt with in resignation or protest with prayer and reaching out to others.

Those who practice living in the context of spiritual seeking may emerge changed and propelled to answer the deeper and truer call of their authentic selves—empowered to more closely choose who they present themselves to be and what they invite as influences and priorities into their lives. Others may snap back into old patterns of doing with great urgency to make up for lost time—returning to the same huts of habits without change—trying to satisfy a familiar hunger with familiar foods.God walks with all of us.

I truly believe that one response to these times is neither better nor worse than the other. The only error or delay we can make in this present time and after is denying the honesty of who and where we are—as we are.

I am personally finding new risings from old dusty corners of my soul. Some come as comforting awareness. Others are pesky hauntings that need care and love and more time in the sunshine of God. With all of these, I am practicing and turning to this prayer as offered by Jerry Webber in the beginning of Lent. (Oh, how long ago that does feel!) Today it feels like good guidance and unconditional love for me and for all of us in these strange times of possible enlightenment and healing.

I begin loving where I am, mixed motives and all. I offer myself, just as I am, to God for my wholeness, for the sake of others, and for the healing of the world. I offer the reality of my life to God.-Jerry Webber

Holy Humility

Humility: discovering and honoring my limits as part of God’s design, not failure.

I am beginning to redefine humility as discovering and honoring my limits as part of God’s design, not personal failure.

At times, I can crater and collapse into being a victim to my defects of character and miss that the humiliation of making a mistake can be an invitation to experience humility as holy.

Holy humility is where I discover and honor that I am human and have limits in time, energy, intelligence, resources, or at times even faith.

Holy humility makes room for me to reach out to others, and in to God; invites me to re-connect with myself and others and God.

Why, at times, if I am paying attention, I can physically feel this change of attitude in my body. When the shame-based recoil of the mind shifts to a sacred invitation of the heart to pause and re-focus on what is the next kind thing to think and feel towards me – heady humility is transformed into holy humility. When I can pause, and lovingly ask myself what I might need, whom may I ask for help, and, how may I sit with a loving God in this space of discovery about what I need to amend with myself and with others – my shortcomings, my designed-by-God limits, are transfigured into a holy humility of good.

Sometimes though, I admit that I am not ready, or willing, to do any of it differently. When that happens – when this human want to be perfect comes over me while also wanting the comfort of no-change – it is good to read this quote again. It reminds me, and opens up space and time for me, to walk with a holy humility toward change even when I am imperfectly willing.

The fact that I will daily question my willingness to change will increase my ability to be increasingly willing.Drop The Rock