Let the Inuksuit teach us

A dozen years ago, after a visit to a distant friend, she sent a parcel. “What’d you forget?” the Preacher asked. (I lose things easily. Even my head, sometimes.)  “Nothing!” I said, ripping the wrappings. Inside, nested in creamy packing material, lay a meticulously crafted stone Inuksuk, arms outspread. Precariously …

What to do with brokenness

The grandbeans bring me broken things. Threadbare stuffies, dolls with dangling or severed limbs, shoes with separated soles, a broken lamp. I deposit the smaller items in an old blue pottery bowl that sits on a chest in the dining room. A wandering line of hardened yellow glue reveals that …