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This month's featured story...  by Kelly W.

         The most amazing, comforting gift I have received is a soft knitted baby sweater with all wrong proportions.  Once upon a time, long ago, I found myself pregnant. I had 9 weeks to enjoy this, to feel the life within. I dreamed of a girl and promptly named her Lucy. Then I miscarried.

        About a year later, I was telling my best friend that one of the hardest things about the whole experience was that, at only 9 weeks, I didn’t look different, so my dream daughter wasn’t real to anyone but me.  I didn’t even have a blanket to hold to remember her. I had nothing tangible. My friend cleared his throat, and explained that he’d started knitting a baby sweater for me, but then I’d miscarried, and he finished it anyway but didn’t want to just get rid of it, and he was afraid to give it to me and make me sad.  Instead, I have a beautiful sweater that belonged to my dream daughter, knitted by my best friend. It’s the most amazingly kind and loving gift I have ever received.


We invite you to submit a story of your experience of the coexistence of grief, comfort and beauty.

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May Sarton


Everything that slows us

down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.

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Southern Oregon

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I met my mentor Robert Fay in Ashland, OR when we both taught for a summer program run by Landmark College. Robert and my husband and I became fast friends and our first summer together was full of music around campfires, adventuring through the majestic beauty of the Northwest, and dreaming up plans for future academic and creative collaborations. 

      Our last summer together was spent in New England....         


                 Robert's Song

                   by Manda Bryn Severin 


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