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There’s something completely unnatural about flying, so it seems when I fly that I act right close to my muse. I write my guts out when I’m in the air. Last weekend, the skies were an invisible choppy mess, so the pilot had to fly much lower than usual to keep us from being batted around.

My window seat gave me an insane view, from NWA to Seattle, Washington, where I met Kelley Nikondeha and Sarah Bessey. Between here and there is desert and mountain like I’ve never seen. I was thankful for the rough air. If I could take a picture of the wind, I would tattoo it on my arms because every shift of it is a metaphor. Who knows where we’ll blow next, but look at the view. Here’s a whole new way of seeing the world.


I do believe I’ll share about my trip to Canada next week in my newsletter, a little peek into the world of She Loves Magazine and of my friendship with Kelly and Sarah. I have book stuff to share, too, which makes this non-squeally girl eek out an awfully girly sound.

While I was away, my boys took over my iPad, so they were giving me a peek into my own insane norm. I missed it.


About a month ago, Seth took me to a place he had visited once. I don’t know how many times I’ve driven past this pottery store between Branson and Fayetteville. How many things are hiding in plain sight? Bird feeders hang there with thick vines strung through. The birds danced around, and a cat stood in a frozen, gliding, deliberate haunch.


We are surrounded by story. There’s a place near you with an old man who collects stories. Go in; ask his name. Pet the big dog. Pick up the thing that catches your eye and ask of it. Watch the man dig his hands in, clay in the fingernails. He knows the names and sees how the glaze came out different on this one. He made something beautiful years ago. He put it to the side on the shelf nearest his eyes. Ask him the things he calls special.

We have a lot to learn from that old man, from the potter.


This summer in Tuscany (I can’t believe I just wrote that), I took a watercolor glass. I was surrounded by ancient rocks and dear friends. Since then, I just want to be a painter. I already told you this last week. Maybe if I keep saying it, I’ll find my way to the water and the brush. Why does it feel like bravery to approach such a thing? I know I make things too precious sometimes.

So instead of painting with the supplies I already have, I went to the art supply store yesterday and bought another brush and a how-to book. I reckon I’m a prepper of sorts.

Anyway, while I was in there surrounded by the coolest erasers on the planet, this song came on by a new-to-me group called Joseph. If you’re a store owner, please play this music. I would like it to be everywhere.

Other Findings

Q Commons: an upcoming event for locals here in Northwest Arkansas

Please join us at Q Commons on February 26th. Our speakers could be considered prophets at home. We’re the ones that say, “Well, isn’t that just Mike Rusch, who eats fish tacos in the downtown Truman Show?” When really he sees the world in a way that might set us on fire. Our other local speakers are the same way. I’m sure there will be an event near you, too, if you’re not local to us Arkansans. So what do you say, locals? I want to know if you’re coming to Q Commons! Register Here.

 Dawn Camp’s The Beauty of Grace

I can’t wait to get my hands on this book. It includes work from some of my favorites and also from both Seth and me.


I’m excited about the quirk to offer next week. This week, Dawn is spreading the news about her book, and she’s letting me give away a copy of The Beauty of Grace! Leave a comment below and tell me what you’re doing today, and I’ll pick a name at random. We’re going to enjoy this one, so don’t be goofy and not say Hi in the comments!

Love y’all. If I paint something, I’ll do my best to make it unprecious so I can show it to you.

See you Monday for February’s Marriage Letter.

Growing Up: The Great Releasers

I have been a daughter of Alabama pines, the eldest girl descended from eldest girls, the boss of the woods and the house. I have been the inheritor of family history, and I know the morals to all the stories. I am big sister, the one who hears, takes the stories, and loads them on […]

On Healing and Wholeness: a Resolution and a Marriage Letter

{written January 10th in the grey chair and January 25th on a couch in British Columbia} Dear Seth, As I write this, the sky is deepening into nightfall with rounded heaps of slate and purple, distant but streaked with fluorescent coral ripping through, as if a hand had dipped its fingers into a burning pink nether and wiped the […]


You Oughta Know: Let Loose

At any point in the day, my head swirls so full of randomness that there’s no telling what could blurt out my mouth. It’s like a brain tornado in there. My closest friends know this best. Especially in this age of little addictive telephone screens, I can go through phases with hardly a hair of discipline to […]


The Little Rock Nurse

It’s the day after Martin Luther King Jr Day. Yesterday people quoted him across social media. I was quiet. I love to read about him, and I wish he were reborn in our time. I show my sons videos of his speeches. I do the best I can, but in conversations about race, I confess that […]


Living Means Waiting: On a Dress and a Candle

{written January 17, 2015 at home in the big grey chair & at Onyx Coffee Lab, Fayetteville, AR} Though you’ll read this days later, I write present tense to tell you what I hear. Right now the coffee shop is nailing it with a groove that doesn’t sucker me into singing. Thom Yorke sings, but I […]


Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room

This is not about Black Friday, but I’m about to link to a bunch of stuff, and just so you know, I’m not being paid in any way for it. This is about my house full of little boys who are asking hard questions about why there’s evil in the world and how is Jesus […]