In Marseille, on a building is this large carved plaque. The paint is peeling and I can see that there is something underneath it..an image? ancient writing?…It has been covered with layers and layers of paint and dirt, years of…

My Grandparent’s lives were one of work and prayer. They were farmers. They lived by their hands; large, soft, tender hands perfectly carved with time. Their prayers echo within my soul, calling me-     strong know who you are…

I always give up something for Lent, but didn’t this year. I am 48, married, have two children, live in France, grew up in Willows California, have gray hair, wrinkles and I am not tall. I lived a few years…

such truth is exposed how busy we can be…. chasing after happiness. running around in a circle and calling it living. how often do you hear                   if only I had time. as if being…

My Dad is the best. He is. Even if today wasn’t his 79th birthday I would proclaim him the best. *The man and his bike, in the cow barn converted into a motorcycle shop. Here he is with his Harley.…

That which we gather in the garden of delight is the fruit of our labor. What seeds are you planting in your soul this spring?