With each conversation over the following two days —at meals, before breakout sessions, even standing in hallways—I bore witness to God’s abundant grace as each woman shared her good story and spoke hope others needed to hear.
All those hours in front of a blank screen leave our thoughts whirling in a cyclone, twisting out of control until our words find a place to touch down.
Uniting with others around the desire to honor Jesus with our creativity established a new refrain: I don’t have the margin to write alone.
Although each individual Redbud member is important, we truly experienced something greater — synergy — when we gathered. This synergy strengthened my spirit more than I could have done alone.
Dear Readers, It’s been a year, hasn’t it? We’re still dealing with Covid. We’ve lost some notable people like Loretta Lynn and Queen Elizabeth, and many of us have lost people only notable to us. And we feel their loss deeply. But we’ve also experienced some amazing progress. Writer Maya Angelou became the first Black…
From age seven on, I grew up in a Christian fundamentalist setting. Reflecting on this from my adult perspective, much of the messaging that I absorbed centered around matters of sexuality and reproduction: No sex before marriage. Women who have babies out of wedlock deserve consequences and condemnation. Abortion equals damnation. The rules seemed certain…
When I was growing up, I was convinced God had given me the wrong skin. Surely he had meant to make me more…American, like my friends. Less yellow, more white. Rounder eyes, less slanty. It would take years and a place thousands of miles from home to help me see myself through new eyes. No…
I stretched out my arms and legs, stiff from sitting in the same position for hours. I stood up, realizing I was hungry and didn’t remember when I had last eaten. I stumbled into the kitchen and my father, upon seeing me, remarked, “You’re alive! I haven’t seen you move in days.” “Ha, ha, Dad,”…
I wake to two of my favorite things: a cup of coffee on my nightstand and a sky warming for the sunrise. Gratitude should be first on my mind, but in the split second between sleep and awake, my mind rests on an unsettling word: depersonalized. Indicators of burnout have been popping up for months—waking…
The most awkward transition in my life was moving from the nurtured and relatively carefree life of a student to contributing as an independent and productive adult. Looking back, I fondly refer to that period as my “Mr. Magoo years.” If you don’t remember Mr. Magoo, he was a hopelessly nearsighted character who cluelessly marched…
“But let your statement be, ‘Yes, yes’ or ‘No, no’. Anything beyond these is of evil” (Matthew 5:37 NASB). This year, I cut my hair (dramatically). I changed my name (both professionally and among family). I honored myself with a gift, in the form of a declaration of independence that I had desired for more…
The spring of 2019 showed up bleak and gray, but we barely noticed. The weight of waiting occupied every minute, with question marks bristling where daffodils had been delayed. An army of friends prayed for our family when we could not, waging war on our behalf, inquiring with kindness about obstacles that made no sense…
Dear Readers, A little more than a year ago, when my youngest son was looking for an apartment to rent in Vermont, I closed my computer and prayed a desperate prayer: “Lord, I’ve done all I know how to do. I need you to show us the place you have for him.” Our son was…
I sit at the round, steel table in the church café. I don’t much like the décor. It’s trying too hard to be modern, to be relevant, like so many sacred places do these days. You notice me, unlike most passers-by. At fifty you begin to fade, you’ll find, become invisible. You are curious, a…