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Poet Molly McCully Brown’s memoir of life with cerebral palsy

Being born is a holy calling to join God in free, joyful, and playful expression.

Many of my LGBTQ friends and clergy sisters have disavowed Peterson’s writings. Not I.

The day my mother died I was performing the part of Juliet in my freshman English class. I was wearing a plaid shirt I’d taken from my grandfather, which I had ruined by washing with a piece of gum in the pocket. I kept wearing it anyway, probably because my mother wasn’t there to tell me not to, just as she had not been there to wash it properly in the first place, just as she was not there to see me as Juliet. Looking up from my book I saw a face in the oblong window of the classroom door and recognized my neighbor, Sammy. There was only one reason for Sammy to be there.

The monarchy, celebrity, and true greatness

Sometimes sacrifice is an act of love.

Merton has been my spiritual companion, but as a Black woman, I have questions for him.

We are flakes of snow; we are notes vanishing in the air.

Yes and no, says the data.

I begin with, Is it worth it?