the gentle power of “mend”

This morning I woke up with the word “mend” on my mind.  What a simply beautiful word.  I kept thinking about it while I actually mended a few things.

  1. A suede jacket I inherited from my paternal grandmother.
  2. My daughter’s blue jeans…not a rip in a fashionable spot.

I realized that mend somehow uniquely seems more feminine to me than its masculine cousin, repair.

Mending and sewing connects me to the ancient wisdom of mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers, aunts and friends.  Women have been sitting together stitching, solving problems, laughing and crying in gardens, front porches, church basements, adobes, tents and huts throughout the history of the world. This is a part of all of us, even if it hasn’t necessarily been our personal experience.  We mend in the way I did today, but we also mend broken hearts, bones & skin, relationships, nervous systems, false narratives and so much more.

Here’s to mending whatever is in your literal or emotional stack of damaged goods. 

Go ahead, tap into that ancient wisdom. 

The ladies are waiting to help you.

coffee & late night road trips

Late night road trips and learning to drink coffee in my Grandmother’s kitchen are a few of my favorite memories.  I’m 49-years-old and I’m pretty sure there are a few trips during high school and college I’ve selectively forgotten to tell my folks about.  It’s a damn good thing I learned to love coffee though—it’s kept me alert and safe on the road for a very long time. Grandma would be proud of that.  She always was such a worrier.

coffee spill south dakota two lane lillibridge