When Your Feet Have No Ground

Familiar. Routine. Preventative. All labels of comfort crashed to cold tiles of an exam room floor. “Raise your arm. We need to check your lymph nodes.” The words seared from my ears, through my brain, to my heart. Tears welled like a tapped spring spilling. “It’s just a precaution. Don’t worry.” Precaution became a centrifuge swirling the unfamiliar until I was dizzy and the world was jarringly distorted—biopsy, schedule, hospital, surgeon....

When Words Pulse

Words. Letters strung together in tiny groups, shaping clusters. And then what? The miraculous. Like heart cells, words connect and find purpose, and suddenly life beats. Where there was nothing, there is life. Like so many other people around the world choosing words in languages and dialects as varied as our homes, I choose a word and a verse each new year. They serve like a blaze on the trail....