Every fiber of my being wants autumn. The first day of autumn comes on the day of my birth and so the month of September is something incredibly sacred. In my Native American tribe, the Potawatomi, seasons are celebrated by lighting a fire at the equinox of fall, spring, summer and winter for four days at a time, to celebrate each of the four seasons. Instead, I’ve been pacing myself. I’ve been waiting and practicing patience, because, after all, it is still summer.... Read more
I found a Catholic prayer candle at Goodwill a few afternoons ago. It hadn’t been lit yet, so all prayers resulting from its wick’s glow would be the first. On the front, San Lazaro, Saint Lazarus, Saint of the Poor. I took the candle home and placed it on the kitchen window by the sink, the window overlooking our neighbor’s side yard. Our new home doesn’t have a dishwasher, so doing dishes isn’t just work, but an event, a challenge to keep... Read more
“God is in the body, where we look out for each other.” –Peter Rollins I’ve had a part time job on top of finishing this book for over a month now, and I find that my mind is cluttered–my brain is literally compartmentalizing itself again, creating new pathways and figuring out new rhythms, and by mid day it is exhausted. And in this, I see a tiny glimpse of the working family’s dilemma to keep up and the need for the... Read more
One year at the Carl Junction school book fair, I bought a teacher’s kit. I administered tests to myself, pretended to be the student, missed a spelling word here and there so that, as the teacher, I could give myself a 98% instead of 100% with a bright red ink pen. I wrote on my little chalkboard and used my apple stickers and recruited my stuffed animals to be adoring students. As I got older, the desire to teach subsided,... Read more
I think that perhaps many of us underestimate what it means to be displaced. We hear stories of war, of families ejected from their homes. We see apartment evictions and job loss. But there is also displacement that happens slowly, over time, trickling into the spaces in which we live. Sometimes the season we find ourselves in is raw– emotionally, spiritually, physically, mentally– and we find that we ourselves have become lost to what once tethered us. We just moved... Read more
When I was young, I felt guilty about how little I prayed. And my baptist childhood friends and elders would gently remind me during sunday school, would you ignore your best friend everyday? or communication is what keeps relationships alive, and it must be two-way. And while some of this is true, of course, we forget an important space in relationships— we forget the nonverbal, the body language, the work of being in the presence of another, sharing space without the... Read more
There’s a story about a laboring woman and the baby inside of her, a story about how far they journeyed together to find a safe place to rest, a suitable place for a birth. They travelled and travelled and finally the innkeeper said to them, “Sorry, no room,” and they found their way alone. And today, a lot of people– a lot of churches, a lot of Christians– have taken up the mantle of telling the “other” the same thing. No room,... Read more
I believe in transformation. I believe in ending grudge-matches, in pursuing community ties. I believe in Mystery, in the essence of God in the created world. I believe in the human journey, in the winding process that eventually leads us to each other and Kingdom good. When I was young, I took to heart those bible verses that told me not to hang out with non-Christians or to date anyone who might try to kiss me. I had a deep love... Read more
“Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold. Faith alone defends. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.” –Helen Keller When I was young I was afraid of a lot of things. Water. Darkness. Bugs. Intruders. But the one thing I looked forward to time after time was the... Read more
A few weeks ago someone on Facebook invited me to their church revival, an event with a picture a little white, midwest church. Now this revival could have been a lot of things, but judging from the atmosphere of where I grew up, it was probably centered around a little hellfire and brimstone, a little fear to get people to the pearly gates. That’s the God I used to count my tallies toward, the guy with a white beard, the Zeus-like... Read more
Stories - with Kaitlin B. Curtice
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