About the Author: Janessa Ransom
Janessa Ransom grew up along the banks of the Boise River. At eighteen she left for a view of the Charles River in Cambridge, Massachusetts. While studying English literature she met her husband, and then stayed in Massachusetts to start her family. Now she resides in Utah, alongside the appropriately named Dry Creek. She is the mother of four children, and spends her non-mothering time reading, writing, biking, and sewing. Visit her blog at Gallery of Portraits.
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Spiritual Sundays: Infinity in the Palm of My Hand
Editor’s Note: The Power of Moms is a website for mothers of all religions (and for mothers who are not necessarily religious). Each Sunday, we post a spiritual essay, and we would love to gather a wide variety of perspectives and ideas. Our goal is to be respectful of all beliefs while simultaneously offering opportunities...
A Good Neighbor
This morning my neighbor Mary came over for a visit. She brought her two little boys, the same ages as mine, and didn’t even bat an eye when my two year old balled his little hand up in a fist and punched her two year old. Which is only one of the many reasons why I love...
Cutting Corners
I recently attended a writing conference, and received some wonderful advice from philosophy professor and children’s book author Claudia Mills. I laughed when I heard it, but now it has become my mantra. It goes like this: “The key is cutting corners and having very low expectations.” Mills was talking specifically to writers about making...
Bits and Pieces to Create Masterpieces
Tonight I attended a quilter’s guild meeting in my little town. The topic of the meeting was the Jane Stickle quilt of 1863. Several of the women in the group recently returned from a trip to the Bennington Museum in Vermont where they went to view Jane Stickle’s masterpiece, and were exhilarated and inspired by their pilgrimage. ...
Answering Hard Questions
One of my favorite things about being a parent is when one of my kids approaches me with a question. Something they are wondering about, mulling over. “Mom,” someone will say, “I have a question.” And in that moment, the pause before the asking, I brace myself. Because who knows what the question will be,...
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