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"It’s not brave to have answers. It’s brave to watch them get erased, obliterated, rubbed out with a half-chewed cheap eraser on the end of a #2 pencil, the kind that leaves black nasty smudges in the wake of that math formula that should have contained, as promised,...
The rain splashes against the window like tears. The past creeps in like flickering shadows and I am thinking of it again. I no longer ask why bad things happen. In retrospect, I can see how God turned what others meant for evil to good and my sin into something else....
"As you make art or write, the process is a container for awareness. Everything that rises up—judgments, blocks, insights—is a reflection of the whole of your life." Christine Valters Paintner in The Artist's Rule I sat in the corner of my kitchen yesterday morning...
“Thin places,” the Celts call this space, Both seen and unseen, Where the door between the world And the next is cracked open for a moment And the light is not all on the other side. God shaped space. Holy. Poem by Sharlande Sledge What if God is veiled by my...
We were driving home Sunday night, tired from an exciting day of Easter and...
I can’t help but think about how hard it was to be Mary during Jesus’ last...
I'll never forget: I was newly married, and we went on a date to see the movie...
I wish I could say I read It and It all makes sense and I never have any...
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