Some days my head is noisy. Like an overcrowded, disorganized junk drawer that won’t shut, some days my brain is a mess. There are random coins at the bottom and lint balls; pens that don’t work and an old wooden ruler. 

“What was I even looking for in here?”, frustrated I ask myself.

My head is a choppy buffet of he said/she said - people’s voices in my head - with lots of “should’s” and “they say’s”. It’s not logical or happy talk. And it’s definitely not helpful. 

That’s when I look out my window and feel the call of the mountains. 

Shhhhhhhhhhh.

The aspen, the pines, the creeks, and the paths . . . shhhhhhhhh.

I know my soul needs that noise, that quiet. It’s a hush - a medicine. That hush heals my busy brain. 

So I grab my gloves and my beanie, hug my jacket and my poles and back out my driveway. I’ll be a different woman when I return. 

Approaching the...

A few days ago I participated in a freedom rally with hundreds of other vehicles. We met at the Utah State Capitol, sporting our American flags and patriotic attire. As is our right in the USA, thousands of us gathered to demonstrate and protest our election concerns. We drove to show our love of the country. And we drove in gratitude for our flag, our Veterans, and our freedom. 

It was electric. The fun, the excitement, and the patriotism were exhilarating. People laughed and honked and waved along the side of the road. At the end of the 40-mile drive, we ate at food trucks and supported an important non-profit. It was delightful. I’ll certainly be doing it again.

The saddest thing to me was the handful of cars that drove by me on the freeway with only one message. It was a finger. 

That’s all. A finger. 

(well, actually some weren’t just a finger - some people were screaming and scowling WHILE giving us the finger)

Now I understand that it’s...

It's hard to say why I love them. 

The sterile hallways. The beeping and blinking monitors. The doctors and nurses that whizz past me in their green scrubs. Hospitals. I love them. 

I'm drawn to the transparency of hospitals. Drawn by the REAL, drawn by the NOW, drawn by the GRAVITY. 

You see, grave things, heavy things, reveal us as humans. Grave things peel away the superficial, the trivial and the facade, giving way to the raw and real. Unpracticed conversations, desperate touches, and "instinctual hoping" happens when people are faced with losing a loved one, or losing their own lives as they know them.

Time stands still in those rooms. The drip, drip, drip of the IV keeps pace with the prayerful whispers and the prodigal pleadings. When reality clearly is not in our control, we turn inward for answers. 

As Lazarus shuffled forward inside the dark tomb, we too find our reconning. What HAS happened, what IS happening, and what WILL happen to step...