My Grandma Violet was the black sheep of our family. I think of her when I pray.
First Person
Lessons from Maximus the Confessor and my dog
I take the morning shift to give the longer-term volunteers a few hours of rest.
In between, I was ordained a priest.
One of our Sukkot rituals helps me think about what it means to fight against evil.
Yes, it’s harmful to children, democracy, and much more. It also makes my life better.
What it has it must freely give away.
Finding a through line for my many pursuits
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “Clock.”
When COVID took my sense of smell, I was drawn to the Bible’s description of God’s.
The mare pulled the meniscus in her knee. This left my nurse with a tough choice.
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “window.”
Accepting the call to Black motherhood without averting my eyes from the spectacle of Black death
“The coffee is much better now that we attend a Lutheran church,” I told my husband, wailing.
I tried it—and I began to experience God in places other than my head.
Pages
Feed for "First Person"
