Rachel is a natural—photographer, writer, and friend. She likes butter in her coffee (it's actually delicious) and people by her side (intensely social, as she puts it). Rachel is a 5'2" extrovert married to a 6'6" introverted engineer. But make no mistake—what she lacks in height, she surely makes up for in charm, passion, and authenticity.
Read MoreWhen the days seem to confuse more than clarify...
Read MoreSpontaneity is the remedy for routine—the reliever of that mundane feeling that rises within us after too much of the chronic familiar.
Read MoreGrace. It belongs no more to one, than another. In a world of possessing, grace defies the rules.
Read MoreToil, soil, & tattered clay,
orever, for never & mendable today.
When our fathers don’t make us feel like daughters,
& when our mornings feel like night.
When our homes feel like prison,
& when our prisons have become home.
I want to build a home,
Of doors & walls & closets with winter coats,
Of icy toes on cold Tuesday morning hardwood,
Of slow coffee sips in sync with the breeze blowing in.
Is it all just spinning,
Twirls & curtsies,
To all these hidden rules I never wanted to follow.
It’s not yet time,
But I can feel your promise in the gravities of me,
Like the winter wind down the hill,
I can hear your life whistling,
On its way.
I don’t want to wait to love you,
I don’t know if I can.
