When I hugged her there, it was the first time I’d really meant it. I wondered if she’d noticed. We walked to the farthest edge of the orchard, where the noise of the crowds was overtaken by the wind.
Innocence
Plunging From the Waves of Grief and Into the Waves of Grace
Too
Writing to Heal
Into Relief
Within Yourself, Not Outside
Your Answer Is In The Question
Ho’oponopono: Forgiving My Fathers and Restoring My Joy
Dearest Friends and Family
Within This Space Between
The Privilege of Telling The Truth: Trauma Recovery Should Be Available to All
My truth telling began not as a bold and beautiful expose, but a secret and sacred pushing of Post-Its on the wall behind the clothes in my closet. I had just graduated with a Bachelor of Theology, finished reading The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, and felt inspired by the fictional character, May Boatright’s creation of her very own Wailing Wall.
Homecoming
…And I Hate My Body A Little More
Cancer and The Prayer Warriors
Same Time Next Week
Every week, without fail, her therapist would ask her the same questions, and again without fail, Emilia would sit there and avoid taking any actual steps towards a resolution. Not that she didn't want to get better, but the fear she had when she approached those memories, those feelings, was just too much. She preferred the isolation of separating herself from that which made her human.
