Growing up in rural Saskatchewan planted a special place in my heart for the wildflowers that grow in the ditches. Blue alfalfa, purple thistles, bright yellow brown-eyed susans. When I moved to the city to study, I saw them less frequently, and I did not realize how much I missed the wildflowers until I spent several weeks at a youth camp this summer, thanks to my husband’s working there and my maternity leave.

Published in Register Columnists

I love words. They flow constantly from my head to my heart, spill out of my mouth with laughter, make sense of my world.  And sometimes, words fail. They take the air from my lungs or hit me in the face. Sometimes, there isn’t sense to be made. 

Published in Register Columnists

I have found God inescapable for most of my life. Even when I try to run away, there He is. 

Published in Register Columnists