There was a neo-Nazi march in Sweden last week. The same day I had watched a documentary on Auschwitz with my eldest, crying my eyes out to stories of children torn from mothers and sent to their deaths in the gas chambers. A few days after I met an old lady in the forest and
This summer has been hard on our hearts. I know I’m not the only one feeling it. Every week, every day, some new atrocity. The world on fire. People fleeing and drowning. Children suffering the brutal consequences of adult madness. I watch it happen from my relatively safe corner of the world and find myself
“I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things.” Mother Theresa Prayer is a controversial word in some camps. Simply because it suggests religion. Or because it suggests that the divine is outside of you, and that you need to speak in a
Asking for help is opening the door for love I don’t like asking for help. Who does? It brings out all those uncomfortable feelings of vulnerability, loss of independence, of being a burden. It requires a level of honesty and trust I have not mastered before. Haven’t yet, truth to be told. But I’m getting
I was writing a new about page the other day, the place on my website where I get to tell you about me, why I do what I do and what’s the use of it all. I noticed a familiar urge to reach for the grand words. To grab my little contribution and stitch
I read a few lines in Anne Lamott’s book Bird by Bird (a truly lovely read) that I wanted to share with you. An eight-year-old boy had a younger sister who was dying of leukaemia, and he was told that without a blood transfusion she would die. His parents explained to him that his
