When my daughter was in fourth grade, we went out target shooting. She found a bunch of shotgun shells on the ground and stuffed many in the pockets of her jacket. They were still there when she went to school on Monday… Tuesday… Wednesday…
Spent shotgun shells at a shooting range in North Texas. Photo: David Tribble
Silly me, I didn’t think anything about it. Turns out they were dribbling out of her pockets in the hallway. When a teacher figured out where they were coming from, my daughter got a stern talking to about it being “not cool” and I received a concerned email. I responded via email profusely apologizing for my obtuseness.
We woke up aboard our sailboat in the Tauranga Bridge Marina in New Zealand. My husband and I had arrived in NZ the previous December after sailing across the Pacific. We had no TV and rarely listened to the radio.
I used to dream of having a place where I could go and no one would bother me while I was there. I could walk in, close the door and no one would make demands upon me. Over time, this dream turned into a vision of a real place in our house.
Why do people want to climb to the mountaintop? Why do people speak of the mountaintop experience like it’s some kind of nirvana and the valley as though it is the despair of life? The valley is where the food grows and the stream flows. Continue reading Mountaintop, Valley, Ravine→
