Articles about Linda
I try to stand tall in truth and kindness. I will never forget a moment when my Dad, in the presence of human cruelty, showed me how that is done.
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With every sacrifice, we give something up to make something else sacred. “If you’re white, you have privilege,” the black speaker, a woman, said.
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I yearn for fire. I pray for fire to light up the dark, to cook fresh understandings, and to ignite love.
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We hunger to hold on. We hunger for firmer ground. We hunger for life. Death ignores our hungers. It flings us into the chasm of loss and blasts open the doorway to the heart of life.
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This morning I came across this piece, written nearly a year ago. On a day of remembering the dead of our wars, in a time of remembering the hundred thousand souls who have succumbed to COVID19…
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I was more than a little afraid to be alone in a remote rustic cabin in the deep forested mountains of West Virginia.
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“Ma, I want to be a nun,” I said. “I’m going to enter a convent.” I sat across from my mom in the restaurant of the J.L Hudson department store in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
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The message and money had arrived in the mail, out of the blue. The note, written on light blue stationary, was folded around a check for $243. I stared at them, incredulous.
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What started out as a rustic camping vacation ended as a spiritual thunderclap. I suspected that I was guided through life by an unseen force, and after this thunderclap I never again doubted.
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The bodacious orange-red hibiscus flower opened its luscious petals, unfurling gracefully, teased wide by the unbridled adoration of a white-hot summer sun.
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