For May, Red Tent Living is reflecting on the following words, “Did I Just Say That?”. We invite you to join us, or to consider exploring the idea further with a Red Tent Dinner.
Below, you’ll find the latest from the Red Tent Women. We invite you to ponder, comment, and share. Above all, we hope you’ll take part.
Sitting in between half packed boxes and newspaper crumbles, tears flowing for what felt like an eternity, I began my tirade: God, I am SO ANGRY with You. You don’t love me at all. So instead of me following anything You have to tell me, I am going to ignore You and anything and anyone that looks like You. How could you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? Continue reading “Anger Unpacked”
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have God speak into my innermost being. I grew up hearing people talk about this intimate experience, which left them reeling in the emotional connectedness of being seen by a higher power. I’ve felt suspicious of such accounts and have held a firm stance that anything I hear in my mind is just my gut, and I always trust my gut. Continue reading “New Jesus”
The boulder in my yard was rather large, covered in ferns and lichens. It rested beneath a mango tree, residing in my periphery as I toiled over hand washing clothes and pinning them up to dry in the sunlight. It perched just shy of a conversation amidst the brush, iguanas, and wildflowers, holding its breath while the butterflies darted about. Continue reading “The Land of the Living”
There is a pocket resting deep within my chest wall, adjacent to my heart. I’m certain it has always been a part of me. Years ago, I became more aware of its presence in my body as the weight became more than I could bear. It seems as if there is a fistula connecting my heart to this pocket. Upon further investigation, I have found that the pocket is filled with the words that my heart is unable to contain, words too painful for me to feel and remain alive. The pocket acts a safe space to hold what otherwise feels intolerable. Continue reading “You Don’t Know How It Feels To Be Me”
Several years ago, my husband, Stephan, and I traveled to the Pacific Northwest for a series of engagements over a long weekend—a church, a university, and an event with the local community. The air in Spokane was crisp and the mountains, already snow-capped. Trees were were just beginning to turn fiery hues of orange and red. It never takes much for Stephan and I to say “yes” to traveling West. Continue reading “Beautiful People Do Not Just Happen”
Last week I finished reading Jodi Piccoult’s book, Small Great Things. I set it aside several times, pausing to read other books that were less disruptive. The book centers on the relationship between two ordinary women – Ruth Jefferson, a black nurse on trial for the death of a baby in her care (a baby whose parents are white supremacists), and Kennedy McQuarrie, the white public defender seeking Ruth’s acquittal. Continue reading “Invisible Privilege”