Because Our Moments Matter {Steps Toward Making the Most of Them}

Cue the music. It’s that time of year, when the world falls in love. Every song you hear seems to say… I haven’t noticed the world falling in love, and if we were sitting down together to write that song this morning, the lyrics might play out a little differently. It’s that time of year when the world … Celebrates. Decorates. Bakes and eats. Shops and wraps and delivers. And maybe worships—when they can find a moment. every song you hear seems to say . . .  Do you know how many shopping days there are until Christmas? Have sent {Continue Reading}

When Christmas Surprises You

Dad and I crossed the steamy asphalt, melty ice-cream cones in hand. We’d driven cross-country to Yellowstone for a nature-writing seminar and stopped at Mammoth Hot Springs for two reasons: huckleberry ice cream and piano music. The ice cream was a sure thing. The piano music, though? That was a different story. Randy played four or five nights a week and we weren’t sure this was one of them. It’s a stop I make every time I’m in Yellowstone. I heard Randy—or his music anyway—before I saw the piano that poured forth something different from his usual blend of catchy, {Continue Reading}

Christmas In August

  Steamy air radiated from the asphalt as we crossed the road in front of the diner. Dad and I had traveled to Yellowstone for a nature writing seminar and a quick stop at Mammoth Hot Springs for an ice cream cone marked the transition from our leisurely tour of the park and three days of learning at the Lamar Buffalo Ranch. Huckleberry ice cream cones in hand, we wandered over to the hotel to see if Randy Ingersoll  was playing that evening. Inside the lobby, cool air carried the sound of music and slowed the purple flow of ice cream {Continue Reading}

Where She Belonged

I woke, just after midnight, to contractions. Forcing myself to remain motionless under the covers, I tried to convince myself that it was nothing more than a long series of Braxton-Hicks and go back to sleep. But the contractions were strong and regular, each one arriving with just a little less time between it and the one before, and the baby wasn’t due for another six weeks. When our previous baby made her entrance into the world, she’d been in a rush. Not the early arrival kind of hurry—she’d been overdue. No, she’d arrived just moments after my husband and {Continue Reading}