There was something inside me, some hopeful, small faltering voice that said, “There‘s room for you.” I don‘t know why, but I trusted that voice.

God made a world of extraordinary beauty, and sometimes the most important thing we can do is slow ourselves down enough to see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, enter into it.

“We love big stories….but sometimes being courageous means less, quieter, stiller, smaller.”

We were made to be the things that He is: forgivers, redeemers, second chance givers, truth tellers, hope bringers.

The food and table and the laughter help to create sacred space, a place to give someone the gift of words. That‘s what some of the best nights are about—sacred space and words of love.

Meals can be so much more than refueling stops. When we slow down to enjoy the food and the company and think about what we‘re doing, meals can nourish our spirits as well as our bodies.

When we stop to gather around the table and eat a meal made by someone‘s hands, we honor our bodies and the God who created them. And in that moment we acknowledge that even though life is fast and frantic, we‘re not machines and we do require nourishment, physically and otherwise.

Preparing food and feeding people brings nourishment not only to our bodies but to our spirits. Feeding people is a way of loving them, and it is a way of honoring our own createdness and fragility.

“…..it‘s not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What‘s hard…is figuring out what you‘re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about.”

I know that death is real, and I trust that rebirth is real, too.

Sometimes a change in season around us is just what we need to prod us out of our own internal winters, to shake off the dust and darkness we‘ve become accustomed to. I‘ve been wintery for a long time—sick, discouraged, a little isolated. I‘m turning from fear to prayer, trusting that God can create new life and beauty from anything.

Pain is real but so is hope.

H~ Hold
O~ On
P~ Pain
E~ Ends

A poignant passage midway through suicide prevention month.

I refuse to sink.

💙🛟🦅⚓️🤍

Intimacy isn‘t just romantic naked bodies touching each other; it‘s about affirming our value and existence, allowing ourselves to love and to be loved and to take up this space together and to make us feel not alone.

So is bibliophile intimacy a thing?
Like, what‘s the type of intimacy called when an author writes a thing and you feel so deeply and clearly seen and known and understood and you didn‘t think anyone else who had your thoughts existed?
Not in like a scary, vulnerable nerve wrecking way, but in like a beautiful, epic, awesome way?
What‘s THAT called?!?

As a high risk person, I am painfully aware of how profits and productivity matter more to those in charge than my survival does.

“The world asks us to be quieter, to do less, to be less. Be less colorful, more neutral, more predictable, more obedient, less spontaneous; to eschew “excessive” expression in favor of modesty, genuflect to the uniformity of it all unless we‘re in service of profit—the capitalist spectacle of entertainment. In conventional social settings, cultural norms demand that we don a bland façade…”

Together, we weave rows of hope and laughter and joy to balance out those of frustration and despair. We borrow with care, and we share with generosity. We spin and weave and tamp down row after row of love when we build community together.

Being thoughtful, intentional, and generous are acts of intimacy we can give to one another.

Intimacy is more than sex or romantic love. Intimacy is an ever-expanding universe composed of a myriad of heavenly bodies. Intimacy is about relationships within a person‘s self, with others, with communities, with nature, and beyond.

4.5 ⭐️

Having read 2 of 3 of Alice Wongs‘ books this year, I am in agreement with my StoryGraph app so far, she will be my most read author!!

As I read through her books I have been living in a continuous “10/10 highly recommend, this MUST be required reading no matter who you are, disabled or temporarily abled,” moment.

My complaints were about the audiobook companion, formatting and recording issues that made the listen feel incomplete.

Crip space is akin to a fragile natural place. It must be protected in order to preserve the delicate things within, while remaining open to change with the seasons and the passage of time. That protection sometimes requires sacrifice or challenge, awkward questions, but that makes it no less vital. Because everyone deserves the shelter and embrace of Crip space, to find their people and set down roots in a place they can call home.

It is very rare, as a disabled person, that I have an intense sense of belonging, of being not just tolerated or included in a space, but actively owning it; “This space,” I whisper to myself, “is for me”. Next to me, I sense my friend has the same electrified feeling. This space is for us.

“…..I know that when I reflect on the meaning of a “good life”, an opportunity to contribute is as important as receiving the support one needs.”

👩🏻‍🦽👩🏻‍🦯👩🏻‍🦼🧏🏻‍♀️🦾🦿

Thankful that I get a participation finisher prize for my adult summer reading challenge through my local library even though I‘m a books by mail patron & have kept my pouch for my currently checked out books past the end date for it. I‘ve just been able to add a new sticker to my laptop tonight that will make it clear when I go back to school what kind of reading I‘d rather be doing!!

Reading for pleasure & books over technology FTW!!

📚🚫💻

When you offer peace instead of division, faith instead of fear, when you offer someone a place at your table instead of keeping them out because they‘re different or wrong somehow, you represent the heart of Christ.

If there‘s one thing I think I know for sure about 2025, it‘s that if anything good comes out of it, those are going to have been some hard fought hallelujahs!

You are never persuasive when you are abrasive.

I apparently started reading this book like 5 years ago and then didn‘t successfully complete all 40 days of it successfully and consecutively….it‘s lines like this that reveal to me that I was a very different person with very different ideals back then!!

😂😏🤣

BRB, imma just be over here for a good long while pondering whether or not a can come into agreement with this or not…..😂🤔🤣

God expects unity, not uniformity, and we can walk arm in arm without seeing eye to eye on every issue.

We need more disabled voices not just because disabled people are brilliant and talented and have so much to offer and say but also because disabled people face an incredible amount of dehumanizing
ableism that shapes and destroys their lives. And one of the best ways to combat that is through stories.

Give them no option but to consider your humanity.

Say it louder for the people in the back!!

🗣️

(This entire chapter is full of golden nuggets of truth and wisdom, if you‘ve stacked this book from my posts of it so far, you‘ll probably want to capture and share each page of it like I have wanted to!)

The Labyrinth of Life. 🧘‍♀️🌀🙏🏻

My joy is my freedom-it allows me to live my life as I see fit. I won‘t leave this earth without the world knowing that I chose to live a life that made me happy, made me think, made me whole. I wont leave this earth without the world knowing that I chose to live.

When that doesn't work, we can remind ourselves that the absence of joy isn't permanent; it's just
the way life works sometimes. The reality of disability and joy means accepting that not every day is good but every day has openings for
small pockets of joy.

I may not find joy every day. Some days will just be hard, and I will simply exist, and that's okay, too. No one should have to be happy all the time- no one can be, with the ways in which life throws curveballs at us. On those days, it's important not to mourn the lack of joy but to remember how it feels, to remember that to feel at all is one of the greatest gifts we have in life.

Taking up space as a disabled person is always revolutionary. To have a name is to be given the right to occupy space, but people like me don‘t move easily through our society, and more often than not survive along it‘s outermost edges.