We’re used to beating ourselves up
Ppl: “How’s your new job going?” Me: “It’s hard to take a day off coz I like the people I work with.” Also me: “If this were my first ministry …
life
sabbatical: week 1
In no other way could I have known how many cymbals, sirens and bulldozers were tromping around in my head, frolicking like job-less teens in the summertime, except by stepping …
The good meetup
I’m that person who looks around O’Hare wondering who I know because there must be someone; the world isn’t that big, right? If I could page the entire airport, I …
Buying my life back
The event in this early stage of an essay took place several years ago. One day I’ll finish the essay. The heaviness I felt that afternoon is one I may …
Not When It’s Hot: Writing Raw
The writing gurus say not to write about the pain when it is fresh. By that they do not mean not to write about it at all, but not to …
Take Me to the Water: a Baptism Story
Every year our church had at least one evangelistic series, at least that’s what I recall. At least one. If not three. On some scale. And the best thing about them wasn’t that people were giving their lives to Jesus, although of course that’s a wonderful thing, but for me at age 7, the best thing about these evangelist series was the baptism at the end.
Making the Days Count
And I’m learning that to sit with grief (which is sometimes seemingly out of the reach of hope or any warm sentiments) is to honor our capacity to love. At some point the chest hurt eases but I’m not grabbing for that moment.