None of All

“It’s not rebels that make trouble, but trouble that makes rebels.” – Ruth Messinger The air is cool and damp, dewy droplets visible on the grass. Sipping my coffee, I try to distinguish how many different birds I can hear…at least four accompanied by some morning crickets. It’s just cool enough that I grab the…

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Assimilation

“The biggest thing our heritage provides us, is that we don’t divorce our body from our emotions. The problem with that is that we also feel the weight of it in our body faster than our brains can process it.” – Dr. Eliza Bast, describing the Latinx experience I sit in Poulsbo, beside the bay, where Coastal…

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Feasting with Friends

The seven of us had spent a lovely day in picturesque Door County, Wisconsin, honoring one of the women in our fellowship. Now the sun was setting over Sturgeon Bay and our time of reflecting, naming, and blessing was drawing to an end too. We made our way from the rocky beach to the nearby…

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The Rebel Heart

My head barely hit the pillow around 11:03 p.m. when I heard the word “Mom.” My husband was out-of-town, our youngest was at Pine Cove, and our oldest was chatting with his friends in Discord (an online chatting service)…or so I thought. I rose from my sleep, looked over to the left, and saw him…

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To the Prodigal’s Brother

I know your story well a familiar blend of nurture and nature— but I don’t know you, not really. Not your name, your interests, your fears (well, I can guess at them). Just your birth order– firstborn, a millstone. You don’t come out well in your story sad to say—not at all. Resentful, ungracious, even…

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The Holy Rebel

“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.” – Mr. Beaver* My favorite grocery store is five miles east of my home, down a two-lane highway in the middle of a forest preserve. Forest preserves are Illinois’s excuse for nature. No buildings are allowed…

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On Life Being Too Much These Days

It’s late. Amidst moving boxes, I’m trying to squeeze a bit of time in to tell you a story about how joy is an act of beautiful rebellion. But it turns out that writing about joy when it feels rebellious is really, really difficult. I’m tired, a little frightened, and sad. And tonight, writing about…

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A Window into the Wild

My father was an odd, obstreperous, curmudgeonly rebel. He was one of the first in our community to own an electric car in 1972. He delighted in plugging the car in at friends’ houses when his batteries were low. He often wore a hat with the price tag dangling from it, like Minnie Pearl. He…

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The Girl in the Cage

There is a girl I keep locked away. She sneaks out occasionally. You would think she would try to be quiet to avoid detection when she gets out, but this girl doesn’t know how to be quiet. This girl has opinions, and she is loud.  Here is what I know about her: She questions everything.…

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Feeling Edgy

This morning, I went back to church.   For more than two years, like many, I have been provided with and found reasons to attend church virtually or, truthfully, not at all. It has been a sort of rebellion. Rebellion against decades of church involvement and all the forced Sundays of my youth. A rebellion against…

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