I’ve driven by the derelict building for over thirty years. It was old when I first noticed it. Steadily, with our persistent rains and occasional snowstorms, it has slowly inched closer to the end. Each year seems a little less certain it will still be there the next time I pass. It must have been built well, because it isn’t collapsing all at once. It’s leaning, sagging, giving in slowly. It’s strange to watch something gradually disappear while spring is bringing renewal.

The regular Major League Baseball season begins March 25.  But for lots of young players, the season begins the moment someone is willing to play catch. Each week I walk past a ballpark. From the earliest days of spring until early autumn, I hear the young voices, the crack of the bat, and the cheers rising from the stands. Isn’t that a soundtrack for hope and possibility? Of course, I think back to my years as a baseball mom. I’d get my son to practices and games, listening

The days of eating whatever candy and sweets I love are long past. But I do have a way of making pumpkin bread taste like dessert—which is my saving grace. It seems we grow up delighting in sweets and then as we “mature” they are gradually reduced until they become a distant memory. All in the name of health. I understand it. I live it. Still, I remember having two generous pieces of chocolate cake for my tenth birthday. No second thoughts. Just celebration. Those of you who

It’s been birthday season in my family—first my daughter, then her children. We celebrate with smiles, joy, and hopes for the year ahead. And every year, it quietly reminds me that I am older—much older—than they are. But older has its rewards. Retirement. Senior discounts. Some hard-earned perspective. And even better? Being older means we have deeper roots. As JRR Tolkien wrote in The Fellowship of the Ring : …the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reach