Concentrated time with Jesus and a faithful, beloved community such as the ones formed at camp are important for all of us.
I met them when we volunteered together through an Episcopal program. They’ve shown me the love of God for almost two decades.
I have to tend the beds of my heart, and weed out the garbage that threatens the tender vines and leaves of my life that God has called to be fruitful.
How I feel about these plants in my garden is merely a fraction of the way Jesus feels about me and how I am growing.
In sharing our memories, we will laugh until we cry, and then cry until we laugh.
I may not be a parent, but I sure am praying for you who are – especially as you have hard talks with teens.
Digging in the dirt and encouraging something to grow changes how we think about God, time, and our lives.
I taught my chapel kids the Lord’s Prayer. They taught me that I am still and always learning prayer.
I like that these prayers always feel accessible to me—always seem to be running on some subliminal loop inside my heart.
When the priest invited her flock to come and see the new table, to worship in the round, to try something new, four little feet—and the two little boys they belong to—took her seriously.