Ah December. It’s a month when the “most wonderful time of the year” brings with it both joy and stress. We barely say goodbye to Thanksgiving before the frantic pace begins, with a push to get more done in our already-limited free time. As we entertain, shop and cook for family gatherings, the world tries to divert our attention away from the real meaning of Christmas toward the best deals. Retailers try to convince us they have the perfect gift, when the only true, perfect gift was given to us in the form of a tiny baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. Continue Reading
PHOTOGRAPH ©BRENDA COFFEE
The other night I reread the beginning of Keith Richards’s autobiography, Life. Keith grew up listening to everything from Mozart and Bach to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. When he was 13, Keith used to walk around his bedroom, holding a tiny radio up to his ear, twisting the antennae just so until he could get an intermittent signal from Radio Luxembourg. He said the night he heard Elvis Presley, singing “Heartbreak Hotel,” was “like an explosion.” The next day he “was a different guy.” Whether he knew it or not, Keith Richards had just found his passion, that thing that gave meaning to his life.
One of the greatest gifts we’ll ever receive is discovering who we are and finding our passion.
Last week I shared the first post in this two-part series. If you haven’t read it, you can do so here. Here’s part two: Continue Reading
If you’ve been reading this series then you know I’m opposed to dieting. Whilst I don’t believe our bodies should be treated like projects or problems to be fixed, that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to wanting to lose weight. I just don’t believe that quick-fix diets work in the long-term. I believe incremental lifestyle changes are healthier for both body and mind, and we should look beyond food and exercise and consider the relationship with have with our bodies… among other things. Continue Reading
I ordered a bottle of hand lotion from Amazon but forgot all about it until it arrived. That’s so unlike me since I view their deliveries as the equivalent of Christmas morning, all-year-long. I unwrapped it and studying the label, wondered why I ordered it… but as soon as I pumped some onto my hands, the scent brought it all back to me.
I used it in the elegant restroom at The Peabody Hotel in Memphis. We’d experienced lots of cold, dry weather and my hands were paying the price. Sitting beside the basket of plush hand towels stood a bottle of Molton Brown hand lotion. I applied some and absolutely swooned.
A few months ago, I had the privilege of spending time in northern Uganda, leading women’s conferences in two communities, Pader and Soroti, where women are recovering from unimaginable trauma. I wrote about their hope in the midst of poverty and their true beauty which comes from their faith and joy, not their outward appearances.
These women have showed resilience, perseverance and a deep desire to make their lives better through learning simple crafts, providing income to support their families.
If you’ve read Doreen McGettigan’s blogs on 1010ParkPlace then you know her life hasn’t been easy. She was sexually abused by a priest when she was eight; raped at 13 by her mother’s boyfriend; her house burned down when she was 14; she married and had her first baby in her teens, and her youngest brother was brutally beaten—by an angry mob—in a random road rage incident. He was left for dead, suffered severe brain damage and died a few days later. It was an unspeakable act that divided a town as well as Doreen’s family.
Instead of succumbing to what could have taken down the strongest of warriors, Doreen became an outspoken advocate for victim’s rights and the homeless.
I remember being shaky in the early days. Food had such a grip on me. Sometimes it’s terrifying to surrender, to try something new, even if your old way feels broken and what you’ve been doing never really worked at all. Continue Reading
They say everyone has a story, and I believe this is true. I also understand everyone doesn’t want to tell their story.
Some feel emotionally unable to share something so personal.