. . . reflecting on the practice of living
“Flowers scattering –
The water we thirst for
Far off, in the mist.”
― Kobayashi Issa
practice vb. to do an activity repeatedly to gain skill; to do something consistently, regularly n. the carrying out of what one believes or the work they do; the customary way of doing a thing
Welcome, friends, family, and perhaps a few passersby to my blogging adventure. It is a place where I will practice writing, and pay attention to the practice of living.
These pages will contain a mixture of reflections on current life, stories from my past, and stories from family history—some of them are excerpts from pieces that I had to cut from my memoir in progress. If you are interested in joining me, I’m happy to have your company.
New book from Kathleen Weaver Kurtz
Introductory text / where to purchase / more information.
Recent Posts
Sometimes it takes only one phrase of a hymn to carry me through the week. That’s what happened for me this past Sunday. We sang the hymn, “God of the Bible.” (I’ll include all the lyrics for the word nerds.) While it wasn’t the first time we’ve sung it, the song is still in the…
Part 1 Monday morning the temperature hovered around freezing, and I stepped out on our screened-in porch to see how cold it felt. Raucous crow calls assaulted my ears, and I almost instinctively turned to look into the evergreen tree just outside the screen, to see what might be happening. Much larger than the cardinals,…
It feels impossible to condense Lauree into words—her vibrancy, her expansive spirit, her utter delight in life. Everything about Lauree was unique, starting with her name (accent on the second syllable, which is pronounced to rhyme with tree). She lived simply and richly, delighting in the beauty of nature, savoring complexity, and finding joy in…
This title may be misleading as you probably think this is my reflection. Not so. In researching for another project, I came across this essay by my grandmother, Myra Kendig Lehman. As I read it, I was struck by the ways I sound like her, both in what she says and the way she reflects…
We were nearing the end of our week of travel, carefully orchestrated to include a family reunion (Wayne), a day of hiking and scenic views at the Delaware Water Gap, a visit to the Icon Museum in Clinton, MA, and visits with multiple friends. The last stop in our trip was still coming up—Brooklyn for…
Yesterday I learned what for me is sad news. Center for Pastoral Counseling of Virginia (CPC) is closing. In 1996, I, along with about twenty other therapists, began this organization, a breakoff of a much larger organization. I helped choose the name and logo. I served in many capacities over the years, both formal and…
Susan and I sat at the table waiting for another friend to join us. As often happened in such times, our conversation turned to food—this time, the food of our childhood. Talking about food reminded me of the old building smell and the unvarnished wooden floorboards of Mick or Mack, the first grocery store I…
“If you ever want to know what it sounds like when the universe goes “Ha! Ha!,” just put a tidy plan on your calendar.” Barbara Kingsolver I was foolish. I did just that—not that I was curious—I simply wanted a neat and tidy month. I needed to have foot surgery—nothing major—just enough to lay me…
“Mama passed away about an hour ago.” Betty’s email riveted my eyes to the screen, the words immediately blurred by my tears. Betty is my first cousin and her “Mama,” my 103-year-old Aunt Esther, the last of my Weaver aunts to go. (For those of you who live in the Harrisonburg area, Esther was grandmother…
We sometimes talk about unintended consequences—unwanted situations that result from decisions we make. For me, publishing a memoir has led to two situations, not unwanted, but unimagined. I’m calling them unexpected consequences. Both of them have brought richness and joy, along with the reminder that we are stewards of what we have been given. Our…