cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I arrive at Starbucks, sit at a small round table, and wait for the barista to call me. I ordered iced green tea–no sugar, no cream. In the afternoon, I still want caffeine but pretend to be healthier by ordering tea instead of black coffee. Besides, I don’t appreciate the bitter roast of Starbucks. It’s…
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Panic attacks, high anxiety, and digestive issues were the symptoms that encamped my body anytime I went to church as I began to process part of the sexual harm that marked my young personhood. I told the story nearly eight years after my childhood pastor was arrested for exploiting children and women through the means…
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In 1998, we moved from San Antonio to Portland. Katy was heading into 3rd grade, Allison was starting kindergarten, and Steve was ready for pre-school. We experienced culture shock as we settled into our home in early September. The days quickly grew shorter and clouds and rain replaced sunny blue skies.
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There is the question of bearing witness, of being yourself seen by yourself, & seen clearly, cleanly, without weapon or bible in hand; as this was the wish, the sturdy & not-so-secret wish of those who named us— –David Rivard This past summer, I found myself in a church meeting surrounded by eight other congregants,…
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