Twelve Days of Christmas

  • The Twelfth Day of Christmas

    On the twelfth day of Christmas, her sleeping babes warmed her heart from their beds. What joy might tomorrow bring for them, she wondered, remembering the magic of being a child on Christmas eve. She remembered lying in bed, listening… Continue reading

  • The Language of a Soul

    It’s the eleventh day of Christmas and I’m listening to music. Beautiful music. It sends my spirit into the sky. It turns my body into love. Beautiful music— language of my soul. How I adored you, on the eleventh day… Continue reading

  • Merry Birthday

    On the tenth day of Christmas, there was a party. Two years ago (nearly) she rocketed into my world and I fell irreversibly in love. With her. My mini me. My little princess of the adorably nuts kind. Happy birthday,… Continue reading

  • Human Nature

    On the ninth day of Christmas I felt sadness inside of me and I cried. Who am I to keep sadness prisoner inside these flimsy human walls of mine? Sadness deserves freedom just as much as joy does. On the ninth… Continue reading

  • Smile

    On the eighth day of Christmas I wondered how the steps I take with my average girl feet might change the world— even in some small way. I wondered for about a second and then I stopped wondering and just…smiled.… Continue reading

  • Couch Chat

    On the seventh day of Christmas the sun came and then it went. In between the coming and going of the sun lots of love happened. Lots of smiles. A couple of sad thoughts. Hardly any cranky ones— hells yes.… Continue reading

  • Tonight

    On the sixth day of Christmas, I craved a feeling. A specific feeling, really. I craved a couch. And a book. And me. All of us rolled up together, where nothing and no one could find us. It’s not like I… Continue reading

  • Home

    On the fifth day of Christmas my heart remembered it has another name. Home. Continue reading

  • Peace

    On the fourth day of Christmas my soul took me back to the river. Same river. Different tree. The feeling was the same, though. The feeling of the river washing all the sharp bits out of me. Making me soft… Continue reading

  • When Life Was Beautiful

    It’s the third day of Christmas. And here I am sitting under the shade of a barky tree, listening to the river, counting my blessings as they float on by. What is this beautiful life? What is this warm breeze… Continue reading