There was this one sentence, from a book, that made me sit up and pay closer attention:
We lost the day in love.
That’s exactly what happened to these last nine days.
In case you didn’t know, May 6-12 is National Nurses Week, which allows about a month to plan. What if you showed up with a bouquet of flowers? Or some chocolate? Or a gift card to a local coffee shop?
To thank the men and women who made a difference in your life, or in the life of your loved one? How cool would that be?
Where I live, you know spring has arrived when the snow is almost melted off the picnic tables, the footbridges, the trails.
Thirteen years ago, a wonderful job opportunity opened up in New Jersey for my son-in-law, Josh. I was the most supportive mom-in-law I know—Yay, Josh!—until it became clear that he planned to take my daughter, Summer, and our grandchildren with him.
It’s my last full day at this cabin set in the middle of hundreds of acres. The sun is just waking up, painting the sky in pastels, leaving a pink ribbon on the pond.
In an article Sarah Thebarge wrote after spending two months practicing medicine in a war zone in South Sudan, she said, “I keep reminding myself that rest is holy.”
The day is just beginning to light up in this remote place, all snow-piled with far-flung hills blending into the white-edged sky so you can barely tell where the mountains leave off and the sky begins.
Who knew gray and white could be so beautiful?
As I write this, I’m holed away in a gorgeous, remote log cabin, almost snowed in. (Almost means I could probably get down the mile-long driveway to the main road in my all-wheel-drive vehicle if I wanted to—but who wants to?!)
After a writing session in a coffee shop, I discovered a very flat tire. The temperature was in the teens, it was starting to spit snow, and dusk was just beginning to think about showing her dark side.
The plan was for a six-week writing retreat at a log cabin surrounded by 2,200 acres.
