As I write, Gwyn’s at the piano practicing a Beethoven Sonata, repeating trills, stumbling on…

My family occasionally prays down by the Mississippi River with the Nibi walkers, a group…

As a serious practitioner and teacher of one art form—writing—I don’t often share that I…

This July, my fourteen-year-old daughter, who’s bug- and sun-adverse, who is obsessed with fancy hotels…

These glorious summer mornings, I grab my cereal bowl and head out first thing for…

For how many years now—twenty? thirty?—I’ve quoted Anne Lamott’s snarky bit of writing advice, gleaned…

Despite five years of plugging away on a new book, I still feel tongue-tied whenever…

When I turned fifty I did a ten-day silent retreat at the Benedictine monastery at…

In honor of International Women’s Day I dug back into Hannah, Delivered, my first attempt…

At my daughter’s swim lesson a few years ago, an enthusiastic teacher stood hip-deep in…

With some regularity I’m overtaken by timely, pretty-darn-good (I almost wrote “brilliant”) inspirations bursting with…

Snow began at 8 a.m. and is coming down fast and furious.  My thirteen-year-old languishes…