Last Wednesday night I manifested a dream. For years, ever since I became a writing workshop leader, I have felt called to offer a class for stepmoms that would teach them what I have learned through experience: that keeping a journal is an invaluable tool for weathering the often stormy seas of stepmothering. In the service of this dream I became a certified Journal to the Self® facilitator and took various classes through the Therapeutic Writing Institute. I took a curricul

In February I went to a yoga and meditation retreat in the mountains of Costa Rica. When I say “in the mountains,” what I mean is that our retreat center was perched on the side of one, and we were issued bamboo walking sticks upon our arrival to help us navigate the terrain. (Don’t feel sorry for me—the views, the food, and the retreat itself were fabulous!) On one of our hikes, a fellow participant remarked, “Every day you should do something that scares you” (paraphrasing

This morning when I read the news I was overwhelmed with rage and sorrow. Two more black men—Alton Sterling and Philando Castile—killed by police over minor infractions in the past few days. Five police officers killed by snipers in Dallas at a #BlackLivesMatter protest. Senseless, stupid, bigotry; lethal violence. The worst aspects of our humanity on flagrant display. I wept over it all. I joined Campaign Zero. And then, as writers do, I pulled out my journal. Into its pages

It’s always tough to write about family. Well, not the writing part—the publishing part. Feelings can get hurt. Relationships can get damaged. Is it worth it? This was the dilemma I wrestled with recently when Rev. Russell Heiland, senior minister at Unity of Fairfax, invited me to be a guest on his blog. The webmaster who extended the invitation suggested I write in response to this question: “What would you say to someone who asked if you have been saved?” This is language