This life is gritty and funny.
Weird yet holy.
It’s constantly moving even when we wish it would stand still.
And I’m just one more writer
doing the strange work of grabbing hold of these fleeting moments
and trying to wrestle them into words on a page.

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I was in the check out line at a grocery store in Boston recently when a kind elderly man, who I suspect hails from Southie, labeled me, ‘from The South’.

“Im from here!” I replied in haste. Raising my arms as if I was trying to stop a train. Anxious to reaffirm my New Englander status and all those years of shoveling snow and riding with the MBTA. I was a Bostonian. That concrete below us was my old stomping ground and I could not allow that to be challenged by this gruff, albeit charming, old man.

But as I stepped outside, I realized that I have really started to annunciate my “r’s”. And developed my own strange version of a southern twang, at least by Southie standards. I use ‘wicked’ less and don’t rely as heavily on sarcasm. And I love my new home.

So maybe I’m somewhere in-between them both. Neither here nor there completely. A little Boston and a little southern too.

The following day Ruth and I stood in the security line at the airport and I studied the people there. Because Im creepy like that.

I noticed the young women. Looking like they were in a rush, when really they probably weren’t. I recognized some of myself in them too. Remembering those days when I thought juggling at the airport involved Star Magazine and four snacks of my own. Wondering if I had time to down a margarita before boarding.

I remember being 26. And I can still feel 26 inside of me. But Im 36 now. And things are different here.

Now I have a bag full of barbies and crayons. And Im toting around books on the Enneagram. And Im juggling a five-year-old who is low on sleep and high on Dunkin Donuts. A different kind of explosive than the ones they screen for in the TSA line.

Still I love traveling with her. Though she toes the line between joy and despair with each step towards the gate. But just like I am somewhere in between two states I call home. And somewhere between two decades of my life. She and I are somewhere in-between together too. And the in-betweens are where life is lived. Our moments are what happens as we are moving from each place to the other. And they demand our presence, not our haste.


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What feeds your soul and keeps you running?

Here are a few of my answers…

  • God & His Word

  • family

  • friends

  • this little farm with its garden and animals

  • books

  • church and community

there are hints of all of these here on the site and in the work that I do. I would love to know your answers!

send me a note here…

 

I post a lot of our moments in-between on Instagram. You can follow along with us there!