Is there anything better then opening the cover of a new book? The anticipation of learning something new, the excitement of starting a new journey. Over the last decade of my spiritual quest I’ve collected and devoured numerous volumes of theology, spirituality, and memoirs. Some resonated with me, others did not. I’ve put together a short list of my very favorites for you. What are some of your favorites?
I’ll never forget the first time I saw Judith with the Head of Holofernes, I was enthralled. Who was this woman? One hand grabbing the hair atop a decapitated head, her other holding the knife, and an expression that dared you to ask her what she had done. Her face so determined, her skin so pure,… her dress so clean for having just cut a dude’s head off.
This week my hometown community lost someone very special-my childhood pastor, my only pastor, really. A man who was exceedingly loving and kind and passionate. He devoted his life to his church and to his faith. His family was a pillar in the faith community. He was the type of father a fatherless daughter couldn’t help but envy.
When I finally allowed myself to feel the loss it came in waves. My sadness and heartbreak turned into confusion- How? How could this happen to someone who was so faithful? If anyone deserved healing it was this man. If any family deserved a miracle it was this family.
This loss came on the heels of a rather rough few weeks for me. You may have noticed I’ve missed a few scheduled posts. Been a little absent. A little off the radar. I’ve brushed it off as “being in a funk” or “seasonal depression”- and that’s probably part of it. But underneath that is something more.
Faith has not been easy for me, and calling myself a Christian has become harder over the years. As I find myself more and more “on the edge of the inside” of Christianity, I’ve collected some sparklets of truth that keep me from giving up. These are my lamp posts- welcoming me further into the mysterious land of building my own theology. They are my north star when I feel lost and alone, the comforting […]
“But how do we remain contemplative and engage in activism?” A question I didn’t even know I had until I heard myself ask it. Better to say The Question I didn’t know I had. Or maybe I did. Maybe that question is what some of my earlier writing was asking, but I was not ready to hear the answer.
I am not a mother. I do not know for sure whether my husband and I will choose to have children and whether it will be biologically or through adoption. I have a husband I am absolutely crazy about, friends that I would move mountains for, and 3 younger siblings for whom I feel a fierce need to protect. These relationships are the deepest and most meaningful parts of my life- and yet they do not come close to the love that Mothers have for their children.