What happens when nine people begin therapy together? On Justus’s Day, a paintbrush, a watercolor, and an ordinary trip to Safeway become a way of thinking about speaking freely, protecting one another, and learning to help without putting anyone on the hook.
Tag Archives: Creativity
Show Me Your Work: Inside the Journal of a Plural Family of Nine
How a Montessori kid, a very large journal, and an artificial intelligence help nine people sharing one body find enough order to live an ordinary life.
What Does God Want Us to Build?
Yesterday we asked, “Under what conditions can we act?” Today, on Han’s Day, we find ourselves asking what comes next: What do we carry across the bridge from the life we had, what do we leave behind, and how do we discern what God wants us to build?
Solis’s Day Is Reclaiming the Sabbath
We stayed home on Sunday because we needed rest. By midday, the journal—and the analysis that followed it—was uncovering something much older about urgency, safety, work, faith, independence, and what it means to reclaim the Sabbath.
And Then Saturday Happened
Daniel said no, so we stayed home. What followed wasn’t a therapeutic exercise or something devised for a blog. It was simply Saturday: blueberry waffles with peanut butter, boys needing Daddy, Hilda, quesadillas, an old letter finally sent, an octopus reclaimed, and ordinary family life unfolding because we listened.
And All Before Breakfast
Before breakfast on Jude’s Day, a night of disturbing dreams opens into questions of belonging, work, therapy, faith, family, and what it means to build a life in which no one has to disappear for the family to survive.
Sometimes You Run Out of Glue
Sometimes what looks unfinished is finished. Sometimes what emerges from the fire is more truthful than what we intended to make. And sometimes the next step in rebuilding a life begins with knowing when to stop, look at what is already here, and let God turn the page.
One Little Thing
Some problems arrive so large that we disappear inside them. On Hope’s Day, an insurance envelope, memories of architecture, a lesson from Mom, and a Bruce Springsteen song taught us something different: one little thing. Then another. Hope is not knowing how everything will turn out. Hope is learning how to remain here while we find out.
