A Bitter Reminder

I was ten years old when I traveled with my mother, brother, and grandparents to Throckmorton, Texas, to spend a few days with my mother’s grandparents. We drove for three days from Ohio and stopped at tourist places along the way. Carlsbad Caverns astounded me. It was as if the “bigness” of the world was…

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Naming

“Mally!” He said, excitedly, “It’s a girl!” My husband broke the news to me after delivering our baby himself as the doctor stood a step away, coaching him on what to do. I couldn’t believe it; a second girl!  Almost exactly 19 months earlier, I had given birth to our oldest daughter. We knew her…

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Mercy on a Piano Bench

Cradled and held close to his chest, my entire body lay completely limp, my arms and legs dangling from the strength of his arms. The image came quickly to my mind as I rocked in a white wicker rocker on my front porch with tears streaming down my face. In silence with no words, I…

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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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Stains on My Soul

Somewhere between Kobe, Covid and Killings, we lost our ability to play. Sitting outside of a makeshift emergency room, I asked God,” Is this what we have been reduced to?” Question after question, and no answer came.

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Jab, Cross, Hook

The smell of dust and sweat and leather fills the room. Punching bags hang in precise rows, immovable in the presence of industrial fans and re-mixed 90s hip hop. “I’m gonna knock you out; Momma said knock you out!” I slowly wrap my hands and wrists, weaving the fabric between each finger, stabilizing each moving part…

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Stage Four Racism and the Truth about Love

He loves me between his smiles and contagious giggles. The brown guy in front of me wrinkles his nose and anger passes through his eyes, the anger he’s absorbed all day. I squeeze his arm. He flinches. How did I forget he cannot bear the gentle touch I offer after a long day? I’ve encouraged…

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A Personal Struggle Towards Activism

Every one of us needs to be an activist if we want to heal this world. Rev. Dr. Jacqui Lewis Have you ever encountered someone whose words, presence, and actions were so consistent and compelling that you recognized the significance of the moment, the need to pay close attention? Jacqui Lewis is one of those…

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An Autobiography of Race

*This is one of the scariest things I’ve written, still not knowing if they are words of offense or healing. I’ve decided to risk mucking this up in favor of honestly embracing my failure and acknowledging my hope for personal change. Lord help me. I am in a Tennessee locker room in 6th grade when…

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