Hey, kindred souls! I’m Abigail. I am an old soul with a fondness for hefty tomes and cinnamon tea. I write on topics such as the value of art, the struggles of being human, and the ways to sight beauty in a torn world.
May you find words of light and space to ponder in this haven of hope.
I have transferred my writing to the Substack platform, a newsletter/blog platform. My new site will be called Dancing with the Granted. While the platform has a paid option for readers to pay writers, I am currently writing for free, so, if you subscribe, you can “skip the pledge.” This move will hopefully give me more flexibility to write more frequently and also…
Dear friends, The nights are growing shorter, the leaves begin to yellow, to fall. Autumn has arrived, and against this background of change, I have changed too. It is incredible how only two months of college can change one. The novel paths of independence, bouts of loneliness and mental weariness, wrestles with comparison, and joys…
Dear friends, As summer comes to a close, I grieve the end of unhurried days, of slow mornings. There have been many lovely moments this week when the stillness of an early morning or late evening has calmed my body, my mind. Moments when I can rest in the beauty of slowness, of quietude, paralyzed…
The wildflowers trembled in the early morning breeze. Their violet and ivory faces turned upward toward the patches of blue sky, caught between overhanging branches. My fingers brushed the flowers’ as I strolled down the trail. God had planted the word “experience” in my mind, a divine note, and I was existing in the moment.…
At age eight, I desperately wanted glasses. I liked the elegant look they afforded adults and thought perhaps the intelligence they conferred could cloak me as well. One of my schemes to acquire this special good was to fake an eye condition. I complained to my mother that my eye vision was blurred, and, as…
Reader, I graduated high school. With the close of this chapter of life, I enter a stage of bidding goodbye. Farewell is not a foreign concept to me. There have been many transitions, upheavals, and deaths of the familiar in my life. But I feel a strange sense of loss in graduating as I am…