How do we keep time during a pandemic
When all days seem alike, maybe the best unit of measure is love.
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Plate Essays by readers
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “Plate.”
The coronavirus pandemic is nurturing neighborliness
We seem to be relearning the social benefits of building community with our not-so-close neighbors.
In this Easter season, words fail
After the resurrection, the disciples’ words failed too.
A confession to you my nursing daughter
What am I to make of your singular desire for milk?
Potawatomi women are water protectors
Indigenous bodies are bodies that remember. We carry stories inside us—not just stories of oppression but stories of liberation, of renewal, of survival. The sacred thing about being human is that no matter how hard we try to get rid of them, our stories are our stories. They are carried inside us; they hover over us; they are the tools we use to explain ourselves to one another, to connect.
The pandemic has made us unintentional monastics
We are urged into the desert of retreat, and we are afraid.
Looking for constancy when routines are disrupted
I’ve been thinking about a French horn teacher I once had.
Why do we prefer faded scars to open wounds
Maybe Christianity’s best appeal is its courage in the face of all that wounds, rips, and ravages.
How I learned to love worshiping via video call
I'm immunocompromised. My ability to attend worship has long been determined by the CDC.