On Finding Our Foundation

My foundations are a little shaky these days. A little crumbly and in need of shoring up. Or in need of discarding, maybe; in need of abandoning as foundations at all and building anew, since I feel like I’m mixing sand and mud into concrete as fast as I can and throwing the muddled mess at the foundations of my politics… and the foundations of my religion… and the foundations of my religious politics… and it’s not sticking like I’d hoped. ...  read more

On the Pub and the Church and Doing a New Thing

I’m sitting at a pub in my little Oregonian home town tonight because a) it’s Whiskey Wednesday, b) my friend, Bubba, is working and can point neophyte me in the right whiskey direction (Basil Hayden Bourbon, y’all), and c) I’m trying to talk two of my favorite girlfriends — a pastor and a spiritual director — into running a spiritual formation retreat with me. It’s a good night, in other words, full of things that feel holy like water, whiskey and women who teach me how to love bigger and brighter and better and who think I’m awesome even when I fail completely at those things. ...  read more

On Sunday Afternoon

IMG_7372IIMG_7367tIMG_7381IMG_7365‘s Sunday afternoon in November and the leaves are in a rush to vacate the trees. It’s like they’re mamas and they have urgent errands to run and important places to be, and the kids couldn’t find their socks again so now they’re late to arrive on the ground, unlike all the other leaves who seem to have it together and arrived much earlier, so they’re running to catch up. “Here are your socks, Kid Leaves, now go, go, GO!” and dozens of leaves spiral for the earth to win the relentless race against time and themselves. ...  read more

On Flip-Flops, Flailing and Faith

I should’ve known better than to wear flip-flops. Especially the kind with the higher, wedgy heel. It’s just that they were $0.99 at the Goodwill, had never been worn, and were in my size. What’s a girl to do? Still, I should’ve known better, flip-flops not being what they used to be… or my coordination, either. One or the other was to blame. ...  read more

On a Shattered Church, Sorrow, Sanctuary and Finding a Path Forward Together

I sat on the patio on Friday night, barefoot with friends and some bottles of beer as the sun set on what we thought was an endless series of long, hot days, and the clouds rolled in for the first time in weeks. The air grew muggy anticipating the rain. We sighed, and we cried. We cried, my friends and I, and we mourned, and we gave our mourning as an offering, because we lost something on Friday, and when we lose things we cherish, mourning together becomes holy ground. A kind of worship. The rain coming seemed fitting, like the skies grieved and worshipped with us. ...  read more

The Church Isn’t Dying; It’s Being Reborn

Every once in a while, I speak here as a Christian to Christians about Christiany things, and I invite the rest of you to participate because you’re always welcome here and always encouraged to pull up a chair to this table. Now because this blog welcomes a wild and wide array of people from all backgrounds, some of you have no interest in this topic, and that’s OK. No sweat. I’ll be talking again soon about pooping my closet or being too sweary or teaching my children to vandalize things and generally upsetting polite society; things you can, in other words, be dismayed I say in public. Hang in there! I’ll be back to delight and/or offend you again soon. Right now it’s the Christians’ turn. ...  read more

When Sad Comes

I’m just kind of done today.

Wrung out.

Depleted.

Emotionally spent.

Sad.

Face down on the figurative pavement, friends, and here to stay for a while. A few minutes. A few hours. A few days. It’s hard to tell. All I know is I’m not moving right now.

Charleston, yes. The shootings in Charleston hit me like a punch to the gut. Racism and violence does that to mamas in general, and to dads, and to people who seek to Love Our Neighbors as ourselves. It’s especially tender, I think, for those of us who are part of transracial families, made of members who have whole palettes of colors imprinted in our collective skin, because we know those people are our sons and our moms and our sisters and our friends. Living with and loving people of all colors does this, after all; breaks down barriers so that even we who are steeped in privilege are wounded when our neighbors bleed. ...  read more