Dolly Parton died this week. And somehow, even though I never met her, the news made me stop. Perhaps that is what happens when someone has been woven into the fabric of the world for so long. Their death feels bigger than the loss of one person. Something shifts. Some deaths rock a family. Some rock a community. Some rock a nation. And every once in a while, someone dies, and it feels as though the whole world rocks just a little. But lately I've been wondering if perhaps ev

Technology has become one of the hardest-working companions in our lives. My phone navigates me across unfamiliar highways, plays my favorite podcasts, tracks my blood sugar, communicates with my insulin pump, reminds me of appointments, keeps me connected to family, captures photographs I treasure, and somehow still finds time to answer texts, emails, and phone calls. Sometimes I think we expect these little devices to be nearly perfect. The truth is, they aren’t. Like us, t

Our parents write the opening chapters. We spend the rest of our lives discovering that we are the author of everything that comes after. I spent the past couple of days with my family. Although I talk to my mother on the phone several times each week, I only see my parents a few times a year because they live more than three hours away. My mother is a remarkably strong and resilient woman. She was 17 when I was born and she went on to graduate from Emory as a registered nurs

There are moments in life when we begin to feel a gentle tug. Not a loud voice. Not some dramatic sign from the universe. Just a quiet whisper that says... There might be more than this. Most of us know exactly what happens next. Fear arrives. It reminds us of everything we could lose. The paycheck. The relationship. The routine. The identity we've carefully built. The certainty of knowing what tomorrow looks like. And because fear is persuasive, we often convince ourselves t