I believe girls can do almost anything boys can do. They might just do it differently. The news agency holds a prominent spot in our village’s downtown area on the south side of the railroad tracks, directly across the street from the train station. Housed in one of the low brick buildings that line the…
I was nine years old when it happened, peering out the window of our second-story apartment in Monrovia, Liberia. The multiplex we lived in was in a good area, popular with internationals; the families on the top story were from India, the Peace Corps volunteers across the hall were American like us, and Mrs. Richards, the…
It was one of those mornings that I awoke to my own second guessing. I was not sure why I agreed to take a three-hour round trip to a church in a small town on the New Hampshire border, population of about 12,000, with only 4.39 percent people of color. A friend called me brave….
It was a cold and rainy night in early February. I stood in the dark, on the property of Mr. Jacob Burkle, whose home was a depot on the Underground Railroad. I shivered from the cold but also from a fear that had suddenly come over me from out of nowhere. Was I as safe…
The holidays have always been a time of togetherness and feasting for my family. When crispness enters the air, bringing relief from the stifling Georgia summer, my mind turns to standing in my mom’s kitchen and making noodles or pound cake, pulling out the card table to make room for everyone in the kitchen. The…
I trade my shorts for blue jeans, even though it is 90 degrees inside and out. It has been so long since I wore long pants, I’ve forgotten what it feels like. I print out a short note, translated by Google into Arabic. I arrange a few freshly baked cookies on a plate and take…
A few years ago, when my daughter had just reached her first birthday, we took her on our church’s family mission trip. Those words don’t always go together: family and mission trip. But our church is committed to ministry that is done with the entire family, which I love, and which also makes me feel…
From the beginning, my husband, Dana, and I planned to keep Christmas simple. Yes, we hung stockings, decorated a tree, and celebrated with gifts. But there were no extravagant wish lists. No blockbuster toys under the tree. No credit card bills lingering into spring. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. I love watching ridiculously…
“’The day will come’, says the Lord ‘when I will do for Israel and Judah all the good things I have promised them. In those days and at that time I will raise up a righteous descendant from King David’s line. He will do what is just and right throughout the land. In that day…
Every fall, I choose one Christmas decoration to add to my stash. This year, I bought a brass menorah, and I’m not even Jewish. My menorah sits proudly in the middle of my dining room table, a reminder of the Old Testament heritage I share as a Christ-follower. I’ve long wanted to understand more about…
Someday, I will get to the Vatican. I just know it. I’ll stroll through St. Peter’s square, tour the museum, and visit the library. I’ll also pray in the Sistine Chapel, overshadowed by Michelangelo’s famous painting of a male God with flowing white hair, a long beard, and a muscular body. Historical artistic depictions portray…
Over the past year, I’ve enjoyed the Grantchester Mysteries, both the novels by James Runcie and the PBS Masterpiece series. The mysteries feature Sidney Chambers, vicar and amateur detective of Grantchester, England. He spends his time all over town—visiting the sick, walking his dog, fixing faucets, and presiding over village fêtes. He’s available for his…
Despite an upbringing in the church and a few worn out Bibles, I have never considered myself a theologian. According to R. C. Sproul, though, I am one. In Knowing Scripture, he states, “No Christian can avoid theology. Every Christian is a theologian. Perhaps not a theologian in the technical or professional sense, but a…
One of the interesting things about becoming an adult is that I find myself asking fewer questions about the meaning of life. When I was a child, I lobbed a constant barrage of “whys” at my parents from the backseat, the dinner table, or our nightly check-ins before bed. Why is the sky blue? Why…