I remember the first time my voice trembled, how thoughts inside my head seemed to swirl through my body, past a thumping heart and throaty vocal chords and a suddenly dry tongue. I remember a fire rising up from my belly and the way my brain fought against its own set of should’s – of how I should act and what I should say and where I should and shouldn’t say what I needed to say. I remember how an uprising... Read more
Sometimes my words are found on the page. Sometimes they come out via a Janet Jackson lapel mic or in a short homily at our little neighborhood church. Today you get the second part of the latter, still chalk-full of coloring outside the lines theology – or if you want to listen to it in full, just click here. Enjoy! — Because when I do that – when I make these boxes and create black and white worlds of dualism in my mind –... Read more
Sometimes my words are found on the page. Sometimes they come out via a Janet Jackson lapel mic or in a short homily at our little neighborhood church. Today you get the first part of the latter, still chalk-full of coloring outside the lines theology – or if you want to listen to it in full, just click here. Enjoy! — A year and a half ago my family moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to Seattle. And if you’ve ever moved, you... Read more
If you’ve ever moved, you know that the whole thing is not exactly the most stress-free experience. Whether you rent or own, whether you’re moving by choice or by force, whether you’re heading to place you want to go to or despise more than anywhere else on the planet, moving is not for the faint of heart. It doesn’t matter how many times I declutter the house, I will always find another bag to drop off at the Goodwill, hours... Read more
I’ve got to hand it to him. Mr. Rogers was a machine, in the kindest and peace-filled and loving sort of way. And if you haven’t yet seen the new documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor, you’d best get yourself to the movie theater as soon as humanly possible. As a child who watched the show for years, I think about how he taught me to love others unconditionally. As a parent, I think about what it means to treat our children... Read more
When I went to pick up my boys from Vacation Bible School at our little Episcopal church yesterday, the teacher pulled me aside. “I just wanted to let you know,” she said, before pausing, “that your son asked the other kids in his class to call him Meatball. Should we be concerned?” Bulldozing the nativity set and throwing plastic baby Jesus on the floor might warrant a concern. Pocketing the $10.16 his class collected for clean water around the world... Read more
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