I share this because these are the people and places imprinted on my heart that I go back to again and again when I feel the need for rootedness.

When I was a child, I often pondered my name, Amy, and felt that it was too bubbly and superficial for what I felt expressed my interior world.

Out my back window stand two oak trees.  I’m guessing they are about 80 feet high, nearly that many years old, and two hugs around.

My mother tells the story of my birth with a mix of sadness and joy. Two months premature, my neck tangled with my umbilical cord …

But what I remember most about those nights and weekends were the quiet, mostly unspoken, conversations.

Today I am knitting together my spiritual home that is a blend of Creation’s cathedral and the temples of humanity.