Daily Prayer: My Body Is Not My Own — And That's Actually Good News Photo by Toa Heftiba (@heftiba.toa) "Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." — 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 I caught myself standing at the bathroom mirror this morning, just for a second longer than usual. Not in a vain way — more in a huh, look at that kind of way. The small lines near my eyes that weren't there ten years ago. The way my hair does exactly what it wants, always. I wasn't bothered by it. I was just... noticing. And for whatever reason, that's when this verse came to mind. Which is a little funny, honestly, because the mirror is probably the last place I expect a theological moment to ambush me before I've finished my coffee. A Temple I Forget I'm Living In I've read 1 Corinthians 6:1...

The Introvert's Outdoor Hospitality: A Book Box That Does the Talking | A Neighborly Tip Photo by Unsplash on Unsplash I noticed something the week after my neighbor planted a Little Free Library at the edge of her yard. People who had walked that sidewalk for years — heads down, earbuds in — started stopping. Not to talk, exactly. Just to pause. To open the little door, run a finger along the spines, maybe pull one out and read the back cover. It was the smallest possible interruption in a day, and somehow that made it matter more. A big neighborhood cookout asks something of you. A book box just offers. Building one doesn't have to be a woodworking project with a blueprint and a table saw. I've seen them made from repurposed mailboxes, old bread boxes, even a sturdy wooden crate with a hinged lid and a coat of exterior paint. What seems to hold more weight than the construction is the intention behind it — that you're saying, without any fanfare, this co...

Navigating professional spaces not built for quiet thinkers Photo by Jan Haerer on Unsplash As May breezes turn into the gentle warmth of early summer, I find myself in a season of both outward activity and inward contemplation. The garden is pushing forth new life, my grown daughter is making her own plans, and at work, the pace never really seems to slow. It's in these professional spaces, actually, where a particular tension often surfaces for me. I’ve noticed it's a feeling many of us experience but rarely put a name to: navigating work environments that simply aren't designed for those of us who need a beat (or three) to process. You know the ones – where decisions are made on the fly, ideas are expected to be fully formed and presented instantly, and the loudest voices often set the direction. The Pace of Thought For me, thought isn’t a sprint. It’s more like a walk through a familiar but complex landscape. I need to observe, trace paths, consider the...

Shop Policy  ·  ArtInScienceDesigns What "No Refunds" Really Means in My Shop My policy protects the shop. It was never meant to replace my judgment. Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Pexels My shop policy is clear: no refunds on customized items, and none after seven days from delivery. I wrote that policy for a reason — custom pieces can't go back on the shelf, and a return window has to end somewhere. But a policy isn't a wall. It's a starting point. When a Request Falls Outside the Policy When a customer recently came back past that seven-day window with a legitimate complaint about color, I didn't hide behind the policy and I didn't throw it out either. I looked at what actually happened, decided what felt fair, and offered a partial refund — above and beyond what my policy technically required. That's the part that took me longer to learn than the policy itself. A policy protects your business f...

Daily Prayer: When God Is the Ground Beneath My Feet Photo by Gerson Cifuentes (@gtk1x) "I love you, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." — Psalm 18:1-2 I was standing at the kitchen counter this morning, waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, when I noticed how still the house was. Not empty — just still. The kind of still that only happens when everyone's already gone their separate ways and the day hasn't quite started pulling at you yet. I stood there with my hands wrapped around a mug that was still too hot to drink, and I thought: this is actually pretty good. The Ground That Doesn't Move There's something about Psalm 18 that I keep coming back to. David doesn't ease into it. He doesn't say, "Well, I've been thinking about the Lord and He's been fairly reliable." He just o...

The Thing Nobody Mentions About Picking Up Litter Together | A Neighborly Tip Photo by Unsplash on Unsplash I noticed something last spring during our block's clean-up morning — nobody was really talking about the trash. A woman I'd only ever waved to from my car was telling a teenager I'd never seen before about the oak tree on the corner, how it was there before any of us were. They were both holding orange bags. Neither of them looked like they planned to become friends that day. And yet. There's something about a shared, slightly unglamorous task that strips away the small performances we put on for each other. You can't be impressive while picking up a fast food cup from a storm drain. I think that's the part clean-up days get credit for accidentally. The stated purpose is a tidier street, and that's real and good and worth doing. But what I keep coming back to is how it creates a reason to be outside together that doesn't require anyo...