Everyday Beautiful

  These photos were not taken in my home village, but they capture the pervasiveness of dry season in northern Uganda. In my mom's words, "You can't escape the heat. And the wind- it's like a constant blow drier!"  Except for a few wisps, clouds leave the sky, allowing intense sunlight to fill the atmosphere. Dust dances on the wind, setting in every imaginable crevice. Green plants turn brown as weeks pass with little or no rain. As I've watched dry season roll around this year, I'm struck by its parallel to hard seasons in life. Just like dry season, difficult times usually last for days, months or years before finding resolution. Struggles usually last for seasons  not moments.  In a struggle it's desolate. The dust of fear, worry and frustration cover every inch of one's internal being. The soul wilts in exhaustion, desperate for a renewing rain shower. Instead, it finds intense sunlight radiating without end. I experienced this before and see

As this year comes to a close, I wanted to share a mini photo gallery of my experience over the last twelve months. I will share thoughts about some photos but leave others to speak (or remain silent) for themselves. Why? Because every year is a mix of sorrow, joy, wins, losses, breathtaking moments and deep pits. I want to respect holding space for all experiences, emotions and situations by having a paradox of my own in this post. January Lights blurred by a foggy window greeted me with the eve of last year. They mimicked my reality of not knowing where the year would take me. Aside from spending time with my dear family, I had no plans set. I wondered over the options: school, travel, returning to Uganda, staying in MI.  The open-endedness simultaneously terrified and comforted me. As I enter 2023, I find myself with the same blurry view. Possibilities take fuzzy shapes. I know not which ones, if any, I will reach. As I learned last year, rather than attempting to make things take s