Dear Heavenly Father, The night I finished my quilt, I stepped outside. The sun was setting, winds blew, and dark clouds hung down from the sky like fingers, giving off an eerie energy that I did not like. I looked out at the mountain. After some time, I noticed a few moths fluttering around in the dusk on some tree branches. The transformative nocturnal insect known for being attracted to light. As I walked back inside, one followed me to the door before disappearing into the air. ...

Dear Heavenly Father, This quilt was meant to be our ritual—for us to spend time together and for me to get to know the mountain. Instead, it has turned into something completely different, but isn’t that just your way? Always an answer to my intention, but never answering my expectation. The sun has been out for weeks, no cloud in sight. The Arctic days are getting longer. I can see a little peek of grass where the snow has melted away, and the sound of local airplane traffic indicates...

Dear Heavenly Father, From the top of the mountain, the view is perfectly empty and completely full. I can see over the walls and past the boundaries. I now know the way. My ascent has moved heaven—moved it closer to me. One sun, one moon dance in the sky. Room for only two in their forever union. My recent steps have happened at an accelerated speed. At the same time, it has taken my whole life to get here. Now, my mind is circling back over the details of each step, putting them all...