by Leah Perrault | Feb 14, 2019
Fluffy snow covered the sidewalk when I opened the garage door to leave for work. The garbage bin sat peacefully under the streetlight on the curb, waiting to be replaced by the recycle bin. I grabbed the shovel while my husband dressed kids inside the house,...
by Leah Perrault | Nov 3, 2017
Photo Credit: Katherine Siebert Safe and okay have been elusive feelings for quite awhile. Tracing the shape of the dark, wandering lost, tending to wounds, willing some measure of wellness – it’s all been a road I never wanted to turn down in the first place. I was...
by Leah Perrault | Jul 25, 2017
Wounds are strange teachers. Ten days ago, I sliced through the tip of my left ring finger trying to pry leftover ice cream cake off the cardboard. (Don’t worry; I assured my inquiring brother-in-law that the cake was unharmed.) The sting was worse than the blood. And...
by Leah Perrault | Apr 19, 2017
Easter has arrived and we have celebrated the resurrection. I have small bits of foil all over my house as evidence. The stone has been rolled away and Jesus is not there. The empty cross proclaims the good news and ushers me into a fifty-day season for practicing...
by Leah Perrault | Jan 5, 2017
(Photo Credit: Andrea Carol) One of the greatest gifts of living in a cold prairie climate is that it gets cold enough for hoarfrost. It is the frozen form of dew, an icy proof of the movement of moisture even on such cold mornings. Breathtakingly beautiful, I would...
