Deborah Edgar

This past year has been one of the most transformative seasons of my life - one marked by deep change, layers of grief, unexpected reckonings, and quiet but steady rebuilding. It’s astonishing how much can shift in twelve months. And how much a heart can hold at once. I moved from the home I cherished for over twenty years, my safe place, the backdrop of so many memories, to return to my childhood neighborhood, which has been a mixed blessing. I let go of the properties that

Yesterday, I attended the funeral of a two-year-old child. I sobbed in unison with others through the entire service. I cried for him, for his young parents, so heartbroken, yet exhibiting a deeper faith than I have ever witnessed. Their strength was not loud or polished; it was raw, trembling, and holy. I cried for his family, for his baby sister, and for my dear friends, his grandparents, whose grief is deeper than words can ever express. It humbled me. A band played progre

Life has a tender way of humbling us. Some seasons arrive bright and effortless, filled with joy, connection, and those small delights that make the world feel gentle. Others come with shadows — the kind that invite us to pause, breathe, and gather ourselves before taking the next step. We all know those stretches: the unexpected challenges, the uncertainties, the moments that shake our confidence and leave us wondering how to move forward with grace. Recently, I’ve found mys

This past weekend, I was on top of the world. I attended a women’s coaching conference in Knoxville, surrounded by hundreds of brilliant, passionate women, each of us determined to lift ourselves and each other higher. The air was alive with laughter, sisterhood, and the rhythmic shuffle of heels on the dance floor as we celebrated our resilience to Boot Scootin' Boogie and the Electric Slide. It was an unforgettable time; soul-nourishing and inspiring. The truth is, I could

There’s something about the first signs of winter that hits me differently. The air shifts, the light dulls, and I feel the familiar ache that dreary weather brings. I've always dreaded it - the slow slide into shorter days and longer nights. The sky turns gray, and the air feels heavier somehow, as though even the world is tired. Ever since Jon died, winter has carried a deeper stillness, one that mirrors the quiet inside me. On Sunday, as I brought my plants in for winterin

While going through my second divorce, I had been referred to Dr. Roberta Damon through a divorce recovery workshop at First Baptist Church, the largest in Richmond, located on a sprawling block of historic Monument Avenue. Her office was located across the street in an aged but stately two-story house that had been donated to the church. As I made my way up the brick steps for our first appointment, my hands were shaking, my heart racing, and a pit was forming deep in my bel

A picture of my great-grandmother, Mary Ella Dawson, sits on my desk as a reminder of generational grit. In the photograph, she is dressed in a suit, a brimmed hat with a big bow, and round glasses. She is not smiling; her eyes are dark and cold, yet steady and determined. Every day I am reminded that courage runs deep in my ancestral bones. I had only seen her, as well as my grandmother, Lillie, wear a house dress with hose and clunky black shoes. My grandmother had never cu

I rise before the world, the quiet of the house still wrapped around me, and I sit with my journal. Three pages. Handwritten. No one reads them. No one judges. It is the rhythm of reclaiming my voice, the sacred act of listening to myself. I am fulfilling a promise I made to Jon. One day while standing in our kitchen, he held my shoulders, looked intently into my eyes and asked, “Will you write our love story?” I shrugged off the suggestion. He was serious. He told me it was

This morning I felt the need to be very quiet and meditate - to shut the world out for a few minutes and reflect upon my life - how I want to show up in the world, what's lurking beneath my surface, to center into who I want to be and how I want my life to unfold. The past few years brought endless uncertainty - so many questions, so much confusion. I felt unbalanced, unsure, lost and confused....and yet, I held onto a belief in my future. I held tightly to the right of my de

Heartache and disappointment can rattle our faith. Nothing can shake it deeper than tragedy, abuse, deep confusion or a broken heart....