My children have been fighting for 240 minutes. Yes, I counted. 240 or 14 thousand 400 seconds of whining and fussing about absolutely nothing. Nothing is wrong. They have food and clean clothes, a house dry from the rain and spring storms. 14 thousand 400 seconds of stressing me out. Not long ago, the sounds of distress the blister of quarrel spilled over to my feet’s edge and I would mediate over their protests a habit I had to quit in order to initiate growth

Find your song, daughter; raise your voice to the sky. Each woman’s soul bears a bird: if the feathers fit . . . fly! Courtesy The...

I love Jimmy our son Somewhere over the rainbow His heart teaches us how to live . . . Kindness Faith in action Forgiveness is born into...