As part of community-building efforts, my church includes “Question Time” during the service. You’re encouraged to talk
Don’t get me wrong. In years of teaching dance, writing, public speaking, and sociology, I’ve had some fabulous students and some deeply appreciative ones. In May, I got a note from one of my writing students that didn’t just make my day. It made my year.
As my mother grew older, she regularly scoffed at the suggestion that she should consider purchasing nursing home insurance. Indeed, the thought of my powerhouse mom shut away in a long care facility seemed preposterous.
My husband and I are in Manhattan at the moment visiting my older son, beautiful daughter-in-law, and our precious two and a half year old grandson. The adjectives give me away.
Woody Allen once said: “It’s not the idea of death that bothers me. It’s the hours.” I feel that way about colonoscopies.
Last night, I attended a wedding. After sixteen years together, a lovely couple at my church got married.
This past week, I took a professional development workshop on first aid for mental health, a program that originated in Australia and is now gaining widespread adoption in the states. It’s designed to teach skills in recognizing and responding to folks who may be in the early-stages of a mental health crisis
As I write this, it’s Mother’s Day. I’ve been thinking a lot about the experience of being a mom. Pre-children, I imagined being a mom was pretty much a temporary gig.