On Black Lives Matter: confessions to my friend, a cop and Christian, whom I admire and love.

Truth is, I love you like you’re my brother. And I respect you. And I think that as a cop you have a lot of courage to do what you do—a lot of willingness and self-sacrifice. I’m grateful to have those kinds of things in my friends. Thank you. And while you are in more danger … Continue reading On Black Lives Matter: confessions to my friend, a cop and Christian, whom I admire and love.

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To my sons, for Father’s Day.

Dear Jonah & Simon, My family was pulled apart by lust: years of lust, generations of lust. So I grew up in two homes. In one home I woke up in my bed on school mornings; the other I visited two Saturdays each month, and Uncle Chris and I used the extra blankets and pillows … Continue reading To my sons, for Father’s Day.

I wrote three paragraphs. Finally. Three!

At my church for the past few weeks, we've been observing Lent and meditating on the (new) Stations of the Cross. I've helped organize and facilitate some of that. Below are the meditations I wrote for this week, the final week of Lent—   Twelfth Station: Jesus Speaks to His Mother and Disciple (John 19:25-27) … Continue reading I wrote three paragraphs. Finally. Three!

Chase us. Bug us. Haunt us. Woo us. —A communion prayer (4).

Our Father, We are tired. And we hurt. And we twist inwardly. In the evening, before bed; while we sleep and dream or stay awake alone; while we wake in the morning, eat, shower, arrive; and even now as we gather in your Name: there is this Something and this Something Else. And if I … Continue reading Chase us. Bug us. Haunt us. Woo us. —A communion prayer (4).

Malachai. Beethoven. Sigur Rós. —A communion prayer (2).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVLP-URFgQo   At first I cannot decide whether to read your oracle to Malachi in silence, or while listening to music. I choose music. Then I cannot decide whether Beethoven’s 9th Symphony or the Parantheses album by Sigur Rós will be more appropriate—whether the promise of joy, or of curse. I choose Sigur Rós; I choose … Continue reading Malachai. Beethoven. Sigur Rós. —A communion prayer (2).

Italian chefs from Egypt. The peoples of Ecuador. Mean, helpless old ladies. Mongolian Barbeque. Even so.

My family are Latinos, which means that even though the invitation to the Mongolian Barbeque says 6:30 PM (just thirty minutes before our one-year-old usually goes off to sleep), they begin to show well after 7:15 PM, except us, except us, since a few weeks earlier we were eating at the Italian place, to wish … Continue reading Italian chefs from Egypt. The peoples of Ecuador. Mean, helpless old ladies. Mongolian Barbeque. Even so.

Peculiar Graces: Introducing, our baby! (by Allison)

Folks, the past 4 weeks for me have been pretty sick ones. This has been quite a surprise for me, because with Jonah you see, I wasn't hardly sick at all. But, man, even since that six week mark, I have been the typical nauseous, food averted, smell sensitive, roller coaster of emotions pregnant girl. … Continue reading Peculiar Graces: Introducing, our baby! (by Allison)