Hope. It’s a thing with feathers, or so Emily Dickinson once wrote. It can be a thing that lives within us, just as it can be a thing that gives us life, that becomes our breath. It can become a thing we pray for when the life raft on which we float starts to deflate one crashing, crushing wave at a time. Of course, the optimist in me oftentimes wants to believe that hope itself is a one and done type... Read more
A lot of the work I do is around equipping parents and caregivers to talk to their children about race. Whether these conversations happen on a stage, in a school cafeteria or at a private backyard event, engaging in the conversation “early, often and honestly” is key – for all of us and for all of our children. This is part 2 of a 5-part series based on a series of workshops. — Just as the first post reminded us to... Read more
A lot of the work I do is around equipping parents and caregivers to talk to their children about race. Whether these conversations happen on a stage, in a school cafeteria or at a private backyard event, engaging in the conversation “early, often and honestly” is key – for all of us and for all of our children. This is part 1 of a 5-part series based on a series of workshops. — Perhaps like you, I oftentimes feel like I... Read more
Yesterday, I stood on stage at a Covenant church in Santa Cruz, California and preached the gospel. Three days ago, I led a conversation on talking to kids about race with a small group of women and men on the San Francisco Peninsula. Today, I listened to an audio recording of conservative theologian John MacArthur deliver a succinct two-word statement when he was asked to respond to to the name, “Beth Moore.” His response, in addition to further interpretations of... Read more
Ever since my book came out, I started adding a new word to my bio: conversationalist. In addition to being a writer, a speaker and an author, I wanted a word that spoke to the power of the stories we were having around my book – after all, when The Color of Life launched into this world, it wasn’t about the white lady getting up on stage to talk about issues of race. No, if and when that happened, not only would... Read more
The scene looked rather familiar: with less than twenty minutes to go before the Sunday morning service, a small group of us gathered in the back room to pray. We held hands, sweaty palms part and parcel the glue that bound us. We closed our eyes, as one naturally ends to do in prayer, but at one point I looked up. My eyes darted from side to side as I looked the faces of the saints around me. I thought... Read more
It happened again the other day: when a friend call me on the phone and I answered her call, she apologized for calling me in the first place. I don’t think I would have noticed had it been the first time it happened, coming both from my lips but also from the lips of others. Just as pithy memes remind folks to never dial the phone (let alone to never leave a voicemail) again, but to just send a text already, something... Read more
We talk a lot about kindness in our house. Just last night, my oldest son and I took bowls of taco soup upstairs to my office (also known as the music room and the guest room and the quiet room). Together, we sat on the couch, mostly in silence. We let ourselves calm down, because both of us hadn’t been our kindest selves, not to each other and not to the rest of the family. After all, being part of... Read more
I did it again the other day: I judged a book by its cover. I looked at the stack of books (which actually happened to be a room full of humans), and I judged said books by their covers. I believed I knew the words written inside, the myriad make-up of sentences and periods and entire paragraphs contained within its many pages. I imagined a singular message present within the message of their books, messages related to worldview and political... Read more
As I sit down to write today, I can’t help but notice the quiet that surrounds me. The boys are at school, the husband is at work. None of the conveniences that keep our house running, like the dishwasher, the dryer or the washing machine, are whirling right now. The television’s not on, a podcast’s not streaming in the background. My seven-year old isn’t trying to perfect his Ninjago kick, punch and twirl combination, and my five-year old isn’t singing... Read more
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In