cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Getting into gardening these past five years has taught me more about being a human on this earth than most things. My garden offers me a glimpse into the tiniest thrummings of life that crawl among the soil, the way it so delicately and yet boldly holds life and death, and its need for seasons…
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(for Judy) I may not be firstborn, nor am I male. Yet I’m a member of your Levitical tribe. Ordained before you, a minister just like my father. And in his image, I speak light into darkness.
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“No one listened to me, so I stopped using my voice.” My friend’s words disappeared into the animated discussion filling the room, but I reached out to catch them. It was an honest admission that needed to be received by another. I’m listening, I thought. Yet, I knew she was referring to a historic dismissal…
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The first time I heard a woman preach I was 17. Until then, I’d heard the “sharing of testimonies” by women in my church, but I’d never heard the proclamation of divine word uttered in a female voice.
Read MoreI came into the world on my parents’ hopes that I would be a boy, a girl’s name had not been chosen.
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