It is not enough for me to believe in love. I want to love fully. I don’t know how to do this, but I am learning. I am learning in small, seemingly insignificant ways.Read More
The Estuary Blog
Throughout their work and lives, our staff and friends of The Estuary become inspired and do some occasional inspirational writings. We have created this blog for them to share their thoughts, writings, and feelings with you.
Please feel free to offer your comments at any time and joining us in this journey through life. You can do this by clicking the link below each article. To access previous articles, click the dates in bold on the calendar to the right.
I’ve been holding onto a secret these past nine years, and feel it is time to come clean.
In the fall of 2009, my husband Thomas and I were staying overnight in Louisville, as we were moving our daughter back to Nashville the next day. She had recently graduated from college and was moving back home. As we settled down to sleep that night, I had been reading A Course in Miracles, and was lying awake, staring out into the dark room, thinking. Suddenly I experienced a vision - I was so confused!Read More
This is a love letter.
A love letter to my husband, to my family, to The Estuary Staff and to our clients.
Every moment I spend thinking of you, talking with you, helping you, laughing with you is a lovely relational act where you become present to me and I am present with you. I gaze at the space between us as I look into the eternal You. Every breath of US is an eternal breath of You and Me.
“Forgiveness is nothing less than the way we heal the world".
-- Desmond Tutu, The Book of Forgiveness
I was a terrible oldest sister.
In our dysfunctional family filled with addiction and anger, yet held together in intense love and loyalty, I raged and cried and felt isolated.
Tuesday, Crying Again!
This morning I found my eighty-four-year-old mother sleeping with her legs hanging off one side of the bed. She has gotten much weaker and can't pull her legs up onto the bed anymore. She could last week, why not this week? She cries out in pain as I pull her to sitting position - I have to hold her back so she doesn't fall back on the bed. Everything with her is a chore - hard labor! I flinch when her pain makes her cry out. Her hip muscle has stretched from lying like that all night. I finally get her to her recliner and get some Tylenol down her throat. “Ouch, ouch, ouch, everything hurts” is the song she is constantly singing. I beg her to eat something but can only convince her to drink a little vitamin drink. So I sit down on the couch and my eyes well up with tears. I have a great urge to cry just like I cried yesterday morning. I don't know what to do and nobody else knows either. I am helpless and don't like being helpless - so I cry. I guess I am not the tough-guy I like to think I am.Read More
This is not my first rodeo into this realm of the feminist movement.
Last time we demanded that men change, declared our sexual freedom, decided to make ourselves happy instead of waiting for “HIM” to make me happy, and burned our bras. OHHH. . . the freedom we thought we had found.
It feels like as an elder in this community, I am being called upon to hold on even more tightly to the inner unity I have already found, rather than convincing others that I am right politically and socially.
It is disturbing to me to experience the violence and meanness that is so prevalent in the political world. I don’t understand the divisiveness of racism, sexism, xenophobia etc.