What Happens Next

Breaking Silence

I’ve been quiet for more than a week here — maybe you noticed.

I needed that time to step away … to sink into silence.  Sometimes I need silence the way so many good green things need winter — maybe you know what I mean.

Not long ago, I mentioned that I’ve been mulling a new project for this space … one that requires more openness than I’ve had to muster before.  Vulnerability always comes at personal cost to someone, and you’re reading these words because I’ve decided I’m willing to pay it.

All that to say this:  on Friday, I’ll unveil something new here.  Some people will like it, some people will hate it, and some people just won’t get it.  I’m okay with that.  What I know for sure is, I’m after the beauty, always.

I hope to build something small and humble and beautiful here:  to break silence and turn winter to Spring.

I hope you’ll come along.


Secret Messages

A One-Word Invitation, Chalked on an Abandoned Railroad Track: Day Twenty-Two

This post is part of the Secret Messages Project.  Every day for thirty days, I’ll leave my words in places where they might be found — or might never be found at all.  I hope you’ll join me. 


I stumbled over a set of abandoned railroad tracks today — the weeds grown high between the rails.

For a long time I stood there in the sunset-light, looking down the tracks and thinking about seasons.  Because even strong, fast, forever-seeming things like trains have a season.  They serve us for a time, and then they don’t.  The weeds run over the tracks and the light catches in the feather-tufted seedheads, and what was useful becomes beautiful, in a different way than before.

And this — all of this — is no tragedy.

I thought for a minute about what it was this moment was saying.  Then I fished around in my bag for my favorite piece of chalk, and I wrote an invitation on one of the rails — for you.


I hope you’ll join me. ❤