Wherever she was, holy laughter was present to heal and redeem.

I like to take the time out to listen to the trees, much in the same way that I listen to a sea shell, holding my ear against the rough bark of the trunk, hearing the inner singing of the sap. It's a lovely sound, the beating of the heart of the tree.

... nothing loved is ever lost or perished.

We do not know what things look like. We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing,this seeing. -Aunt Beast

I am also four, and twelve, and fifteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one, and forty-five and . . . and . . . and . . .

There is nothing we need be afraid to say before the Lord.

Why does anybody tell a story? It does indeed have something to do with faith. Faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.