The season from Thanksgiving to Christmas is usually extra angst-ridden. On one hand it is my favorite time of the year. I love time off with family, decorating, baking, celebrating, pausing to be mindful of and thankful for all of the good in my life. On the other hand I find myself more mindful than usual that life, like the old year, is fleeting
My favorite season is fall. Fall is football, hayrides, and War Eagle. It’s candles in pumpkins, a yellow harvest moon. Crisp mornings and cool nights. It’s Harper’s birthday, deer jerky, and Thanksgiving. It is waking up to scenes like this picture, to mountainsides ablaze with vibrant color. But it’s also darkness by 6:00. A prelude to winter, to bitter cold, to the death of many beautiful things.
I am grateful I have no time. Really. This is the conclusion I’ve reached after much careful deliberation.
Dear Moma,
Thank you for bringing me into the world.
“I’d like a plate of forgiveness with a side of mercy.”
I’m a mother, teacher, writer, seeker. I could tell you I started this blog to make a difference in the world--and it would be great if it does--but that’s not really why I started it.
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