My second recording session for Keeping Kith proved even more dramatic than the first. Part of what excited me about making these recordings was that I would have no idea who or what would join me, but I knew it would be interesting. In my experience, inviting kith into conversation is never a boring endeavor.

Horses, VERY high winds, sudden snow, and what a crazy time it is to be human-ing are all present in this missive, as well as thoughts on how we might rebuild our relationships with our kith going forward…

Meanwhile, as a former Minneapolis native, with many friends and family still there, I questioned whether I wanted to continue with this project in light of everything happening to the people and city I love so much. All my big ideas and small joys seem silly set against not only what they are enduring, but what certainly seems to be coming next if too many of us decide to continue treating the well-being of our neighbors (human and otherwise) as somehow separate from our own.

And then I remember my commitment to my kith—my sheep, the grass that nourishes them, the endless colored flag of sky that paints itself anew every morning and evening, and I stopped to marvel at the beauty of it all.

So, I’ll be back next week with another recording, and I will leave you today with the final paragraph from this week’s column (which was about motherhood):

“The reason I am thinking of motherhood this week, though, is because every night as I’ve lain down to read bedtime stories, or give bedtime snuggles, I’ve been thinking about how much I love my kids, how desperately I longed for them before they were born, and how thankful I am that I got to become a mother.

This week, lying in the dark, feeling their soft breath slow as they slide towards sleep, I’ve also been thinking about what a mess we are in right now and how daunting it is to navigate. But as I hold my babies, who aren’t babies anymore, I’ve also been thinking of you–all of you, and everyone you know, and everyone they know. No one, no matter where or how or to whom they were born, is any less deserving of the kind of love a mother feels as she cradles her child in the quiet of a long night.

So, I am sending this out to all who read these words with the hope that the next time you lie down to rest, you feel that love. You are as cherished by creation as the most longed-for child. You are sacred. You are beloved. We all are.”

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