I held a Jewel in my fingers –
And went to sleep –
The day was warm, and winds were prosy –
I said “‘Twill keep” –

I woke – and chid my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone –
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own –

– Emily Dickinson (c. 1861)

Although I cannot be separated from my global work and aim to be the same person everywhere, this is not my ministry newsletter, this is the newsletter where I can practice my craft, share family stories, and call myself a writer. I long to record the Amethyst remembrances of my life.

Hola! I’m Rosalie M. Duryee. I’m wife to Chris, mama to third culture kids Susanna and Austin, global church planter and disciple-maker, fair trade peddler, and, just like you, so much more. God made me a writer, and I want to share my work. So if you’re reading this, thank you for your support.

Why subscribe?

I love how wildflowers grow along the edges of plowed fields. Beautiful, wild things grow and thrive in spite of the dirt being turned over. I want to inspire my readers to see beauty in seemingly inconsequential moments of life. A few times times a year, I’ll share an essay—memoirish prose, if you will—about expat life, hospitality, discipleship, faith, motherhood, or marriage. But in my essays, I will try to capture the beauty and joy of little, imperfect things that grow on the edges of those fields like wildflowers.

Sometimes they’re known by another name, weeds. But they’re still beautiful. Emily Dickinson called them Amethyst remembrances.

I hope you like it.

I’ll also curate a few things that have impacted me over the season that I just can’t keep to myself. Wildflower bouquets, we’ll call them.

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