I knew it was time.
I wanted to get rid of as much stuff as I could. Otherwise, nothing would change.
My drawers would stay stuffed with stuff — that I haven’t had time to process.
Everything seemed fine — unless read more…
wet petals, gentle at my feet
I’m not sure where I’m heading.
The morning has barely breathed its warmth on the grass. Winter still blankets the hillside, with tree limbs stretching out and bare, like the arms of a child sleeping, tousled out of her grandma’s quilt.
I just know I need to keep walking.
Otherwise, I’d just stay in my bed.
I’d pull up the covers and close my eyes, even though I can’t fall asleep. read more…
a fave comfort food. my yummy fried rice.
When all you have are broken pieces, how do you start the new year by faith?
One of my favorite comfort foods is fried rice.
If you’ve never made this Asian fave, think of it as pasta for Chinese people. It’s versatile. You can whip it up in a skillet, pan, wok, or whatever. The key is sauteing each ingredient separately and then combining it all at the end.
One advantage that fried rice has over it’s Italian cousin read more…
It started off as a project to help de-stress hubby.
I wanted to do something loving, to show my gratitude for all he’s done for me.
After all, helping someone recover from post-traumatic stress can be… well…
Stressful.
Can you imagine seeing the one you love read more…
I didn’t want to call anyone or tell anyone what was happening.
The first person I saw after experiencing my first panic attack was my medical doctor. He wasn’t concerned at all.
He said my panic attacks was a typical case of situational stress.
He wrote it off as physical exhaustion read more…
I just won’t write.
That’s what I told my therapist Dr. P a month ago.
It wasn’t the first time I made this declaration.
I just wanted all the panic attacks, flashbacks, sleepless nights and pain-in-my muscles from re-living traumatic experiences to go away.
If writing is what triggered Pandora’s box of memories and these completely overwhelming feelings of distress, then the most logical thing to do is to stop writing.
Perfect. It’s decided. I told myself.
What difference does it make if I shut down the blog and just said goodbye? read more…
(Psst… This post was inadvertently published on Sunday for a few moments. Sorry for any confusion. You can click to comment at the end of today’s post now. With love, Bonnie.)
Long and weary traveler.
Searching for the way to go.
Are you looking out among the crowds — to find someone you know?
Someone to hear your story.
Someone to sit down with you.
Someone who isn’t rushed to go anywhere.
Who won’t tire of you or your words.
Standing still is one of the most difficult read more…
Every year, since I was seventeen, I’ve made it a practice.
The day after Christmas until the New Year, I ask for a word.
It’s always tucked inside the envelope of Bible verse. It might come to me through a lyric of a song, or like a dandelion wafting through the air, a thought somehow snags on a blade of an everyday moment.
I may be sliding julienned leaves of bok choy from my cutting board, damp from washing, into a hot oil-dancing frying pan. I could be staring into a stretch of freeway, as I exit to pause at a traffic light.
I don’t know when that one word will come.
But, I always wait for it to arrive. I’m eager to open it — to find the note God will place on my soul for the year.
But, it’s 2013.
And I don’t have very many words as it is. read more…
A heart's imprint, one winter morning
“Having come to know Jesus, we are forbidden to return by the way we came.” St. Gregory
The new year is approaching.
It’s right around the corner.
One moment, I’m sure of where I’m heading. Another moment, I’m thinking, maybe it’s time to change course instead.
It’s a voice that’s not very loud.
It’s God’s voice. Ever so soft. So very still.
Like a stone cast upon a pond standing cold in the winter, my heart thinks it’s resting when it feels a ripple cascade from the center.
Come back to me, Bonnie.
But, don’t come back the way you came.
I want you to journey ahead — by traveling another way.
It’s my birthday today.
But, I have mixed feelings about it.
I’ve always loved celebrating my birthday.
It’s a chance to start over. Fresh.
It’s one of the most reflective times I get to enjoy. To look back at the year. I get very sentimental.
I’m the kind of girl, after all, who walks into a card store and feels like she can buy every card on the display racks. I can think of a gazillion ways a card can speak to me. To reflect on the moments. To recall a good memory or sink into the reverie of a dream-that-might-come true.
But, not this year.
I can’t do what I usually love doing. I can’t make any plans.
I can’t look back on this year with much fondness. And I have no idea what’s up ahead.
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