Previously published in the weekly column, “Here’s to the Good Life” in the Hughson Chronicle & Denair Dispatch The autumnal festivities are quickly approaching Hughson’s Truck-or-Treat event at Lebright Fields on Halloween night, the Trunk-or-Treat generally held at the Assemblies of God Church, the Harvest Festival at the Church of
Previously published in the Hughson Chronicle & Denair Dispatch …as such, this piece refers specifically to my time reporting for the newspaper and my column, Here’s to the Good Life! The day begins at 6:00 a.m. with my toddler singing “Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer.” Some mornings I hide my
I spend a good deal of time discussing the importance of savoring the moment, the season. There no greater time than Autumn for this in my family. We create environment, educational activities, food favorites, family festivities, and add our own Catholic spin by accessing the old traditions. Environment Full of
It is the eve of my wedding anniversary. Three 85-inch wood tables stand foot-to-foot along the pavement of our backyard, forming a line from mulberry tree to mulberry tree. The rich tones of the wood play in my mind as I mentally, meticulously, lay pomegranate blossoms, English ivy, and boxwood
Previously published in the Hughson Chronicle & Denair Dispatch This week I found myself reflect on the importance of challenging ourselves with new things. When we only offer our children that which is familiar or comfortable, they do not grow. As a parent (speaking of my own parenting
I sat down on the rattan sofa with its blue and white stripe upholstered cushions in my backyard, two years ago, the long-awaited funeral of my daughter Celeste then behind me. For months, my days were absorbed with the emotional preparation, the material preparation, the familial preparation of a life-limited
New season, new strengths. Every year, our family improves a little in our Lenten devotions. It’s been ages since I could pray the Stations of the Cross in the church. Between mealtimes, bedtimes, meltdown times, it just didn’t work. Dissatisfied with the offerings of geometic art, self-centered meditations, and
Previously published in the Hughson Chronicle-Denair Dispatch I have a friend who is afraid. Trauma in her life likely primed her to view the world with caution, assessing the danger. When a man tried to break to into her house, she huddled with her family in the hallway, calling the
Time and again she glanced to her side, lifting her eyes up, a broad smile pouring into her expression. This new bride, 24 years old, with a mass of curls pinned to the side, holding a fingertip veil in place. Her skirts floated along with as she walked, trustingly locking
I do not want to look back. I do not want to count my blessings from the past year because it means 2017 is even further away, that the time in my life when Celeste was alive is even further away. One year ago, my husband and I looked back
