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Bits and Pieces

Not Either Or, But Both And

I don’t believe it has to be either cops or social workers. Not either cops or mental health professionals. Not either cops or educators. I believe it is both and. I have known police officers as friends and acquaintances all my life. I know them as husbands. As brothers. As fathers. As sons and daughters. […]

sunflower mosaic diy kit
Bits and Pieces

DIY Kits Offer Hope

I started creating DIY Mosaic kits from a suggestion of a friend who had come to create at one of my classes before the pandemic closed us down. I pondered the idea and decided to give it a try. My early efforts were unpolished and I learned a lot from those first kit creations. Things […]

beautiful still
Bits and Pieces

Being the Mom

Being a mom. The hardest job. The best job. But the hardest. The best and the hardest at the same time. Sometimes the hard and the best take turns. Sometimes the hard gets harder and the remnants of the best are like tattered threads. At this unprecedented time in our history—with the world facing and […]

grief
Bits and Pieces

Grief in the Midst of Covid19

I believe there’s an overwhelming corporate and private grief we are all in. And I think many people have no idea that what they are feeling is grief. There’s a lot we’ve lost to this virus. Too much to list but for starters, there is the loss of college graduation ceremonies, wedding receptions, baby showers, […]

Bits and Pieces

Broken Hearts

Lots of Broken Hearts… Lots of broken hearts hidden behind gentle smiles as we enter into February. Friends and strangers dealing with brokenness, sadness, and a daily wrestling match with questions that have no good answers this side of heaven. The only good news, and it’s really good news, is that Jesus walks alongside the […]

Bits and Pieces

I Hope You Dance!

A deep desire to live joyfully Part of my restlessness and dogged determination to do what I love—to live joyfully—is to be the arms and legs of my Grandmother Lillian, so she can dance.  I read her story from my father’s pen.  Pencil, rather, as he wrote his story in pencil much like an obedient […]