An Ending of Sorts

I stepped on the downtown pavement for the first time in months, surrounded by masked bodies holding make-shift cardboard signs with words written in paint or permanent marker, saying things like, “I CAN’T BREATHE,” or “NO JUSTICE NO PEACE,” or “SAY HIS NAME—GEORGE FLOYD.” 

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Reconsidering the Narrative

“In this time of our national transition…reach down into your soul. Find the courage to trust God’s Spirit—move with God in the direction of liberty and justice for all.” – Lisa Sharon Harper I looked at the story in front of me—“Hansel and Gretel.” A room full of people longing to learn how to better…

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An Impossible Space

Today, I am present to my sense of participation in an impossible game.  Addressing racism and biblical justice as a faith leader and woman of color is a place of relational compression. Everything is constantly squeezed, and I can feel the bones and weight of my competing responsibilities creaking and cracking.  In the middle my…

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I Wonder

I married a man who often has a swirl of controversy about him. It seemed like a good fit because I was the skinny girl on the playground who faced down big six graders for being unkind to the brown third grader from India. If someone made fun of the wheelchair bound child with hydrocephalus…

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Abel’s Blood Cries Out

The echoes of “Black Lives Matter” bounce through the car. My children cradle signs made from foam board. They speak of George Floyd, their awareness growing. A sign that says, “Mexicans for Black Lives” rests in the front passenger seat. I drive. My oldest asks, “Will we be safe at the protest?” I’ve heard the…

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