A greeting and introduction

It’s hard to know how to introduce myself, to decide what about me is so vital that you must know it to understand what I write, and what is periphery, a distraction. But with time against me (and my own conviction that as a newly-invited author to this community I owe you all an introduction sooner rather than later), I’ll keep this short.

My name is Heather. I am a writer by trade, but am falling in love with words all over again in my spare time. I live in coal-mining territory in the hills and valleys of western Pennsylvania with my husband of three years, work as a reporter at a daily newspaper while he begins a doctorate degree, and spend afternoons on my living room floor with Vesper and Alaska, my ferrets.

I once thought I had a fairly decent handle on this journey we call life; but I know now that what I thought I understood must be relearned. I have been shattered, and am slowly being rebuilt into a more useful tool for service in the hands of my God. And I am coming to understand that the growth is worth the pain.

So that is who I am. I’m looking forward to being a part of this far-flung community.

- Heather

P.S. I'm not familiar with the font, size, or tagging requirements for posts - please let me know if I need to change something!

from ali : census work

Fellow friends, family and tortoises:

Just a quick blip to let you know we now have Heather on board, that delightful Pennsylvania-dwelling journalist cousin of mine (as well as Alden's older sister - we're a big clan like that). Many of you know her, some of you don't, but hers is both a professionally developed and refreshingly genuine voice I'm thrilled to incorporate here.

... now play nice.

History

There is but one science

There is but one art

There are a multitude of muses, but there are no other mediums

Form and function by our ability to remember

Meaning by our predilection to forget

A Truly Joyous Jumble

Fifteen miles into a bike ride through the country and my knees stop aching. Ten minutes into a swim when the scrapes on my shins quit stinging. Twenty-two years into a lifetime and my soul starts truly yearning for a God that's forever present. Three lines into a blog post and life seems a wonder.

Staring off a monolith into a valley of sticks and greenery. This is where I find myself the weekend of May 29th. Flash forward less than two weeks and I am sitting below a florescent light, at my desk, dreaming of cliffs and clear, bluish-green water. Escaping into the yellowing pages of a Hesse novel is no match for total immersion in water lapping against a rocky shore of a small, hill country community.

The days have grown much longer and the expanding schedule for each day is, surprisingly, not burdensome. Each dip in the city lake, every sunset reminds me that He is rolling out beauty in every direction. Warmth from a fire crackling in the 'rocket ship pizza kiln' consumes doubt and apprehension. This life is for living and it's time to get busy doing so.

"I don't want to be a fair weather fan caught in a trough drifting again. When the tempest comes, and we know it surely will, I hope we ride the wave and learn to sit still. Life isn't poetry. It ain't a book you read or a movie you've seen. It's not the fickle flesh or the drugs that make us feel the best. It's the culmination of faith and the guiding light that leads through the pitch of night."

-evergreens