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Some thoughts keep coming back—not because they’re true, but because we’ve stopped pulling them out. ⸻ I have a mole hair. It grows out of a small mole on my right thigh. It’s stiff, pokey, and no matter how many times I pluck it, it always comes back. The plucking part is not simple. Because of my low vision, I have to attempt it by feel. That means I need to accurately locate it and it has to be long enough to grab without grabbing the mole itself. Miss, and I pinch the ski

A cold morning, a chirping bird, and a quiet reminder about the seasons we wish we could skip—and why they matter. It felt unbearable. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it was uncomfortable enough to make me question God and His ways all over again. I was walking to catch the bus for work on a mid-December morning. My backpack was loaded with all the winter essentials, and I was confident my giant sleeping-bag coat (I look like a black caterpillar in it) and my h

Perspective doesn’t arrive by accident — it grows when we choose to slow down, focus, and fully inhabit the moment we’re in. To gain perspective is to gain clarity. And to flip it around, to gain clarity is also to gain perspective. You can’t have either without focus. 2025 was a year to remember. My family and I walked through a season of significant change. My husband was laid off at the end of March and didn’t find new work until September. My daughter got married, making

A story about low vision, inner resistance, and learning to meet ourselves with gentleness. It happens every time I have a morning shift. Without fail, I arrive at work at 10 a.m., and despite my alertness, caffeine intake, and good mood, my eyes refuse to cooperate. In case you’ve forgotten, I have low vision. Most days I get along just fine at work—even with my disability—except in the mornings. For the first hour or two of my shift, my eyes and brain argue. I give my eyes

A rushed October morning, the scent of fallen leaves, and a quiet invitation to let go. It was 9:30 on a late October morning, and I was hurriedly walking to catch the bus for work. The sky was a clear blue, the sun was still low, and the air had that crisp freshness that wakes up all your senses. As someone with low vision, I’ve learned to rely on my other senses to stay aware and experience the world around me. Like a dog, I’ll often stop and sniff the air, a bush, a boot t

A season of firsts, a few lasts, and the bittersweet realization that time never slows down. If you asked me now, “Would you do it again?” my knee-jerk reaction would be a hard no. But in hindsight? I’d consider it. Some aspects of it, anyway. Certainly not adorning an afghan and walking down a runway (that’s a one-time-only kind of thing), but maybe next time with a less… unconventional outfit. I’m all for stepping outside of my comfort zone, but a girl has to have her bound