This year, Ash Wednesday looked like parking in a 12-minute spot on the corner of Bay and Montecito and walking up to the front step of our church building.
The Dark Ancient Truth of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
Usually, by the time December rolls around, I am ready for the Advent season to come around as well.
This One Word is Enough
“The sun must be sad today, Mama,” my younger son said to me.
Striving for Justice and Peace by Putting One Foot in Front of the Other
Fifty-four years ago, my father-in-law set out to walk 220 miles from Memphis, Tennessee to Jackson, Mississippi. Even though the Voting Rights Act of 1965 had passed less than a year earlier, a stronghold of fear still gripped African American voters, especially in the South.
I Choir the Proper Praise
Just after 7:30 this morning my younger son and I trekked out to the driveway in our slippers and pajamas, a box of sidewalk paint, a roll of masking paint, and my cup of coffee our only companions.
Throwing Spirals and God Beholding Us … and Smiling
I threw the best spiral of my life yesterday afternoon.
Morning Prayers and Giving Thanks, Courtesy of Harry Potter
A couple of Saturdays ago, my oldest son and I trekked into the heart of San Francisco for a visit to one of the most iconic Episcopal churches, Grace Cathedral.
The Holiest Invitation of All
Last month, I gathered with a group of women communicators for a five-day retreat in northern Idaho. We’d been together over Zoom calls for several months by that point, but found ourselves itchy for a little face-to-face interaction.
We Celebrate Our Mistakes!
When it comes to mistakes, I tend to think I have a pretty healthy attitude on the subject. It’s okay, we all make mistakes, I tell my seven-year-old son when he accidentally falls off his pint-sized skateboard and skins his knee.
Living in a Land of Maybes
Lately, I feel like I’ve been living in a land of maybes.Perhaps replying with a “maybe” when someone invites you over for a glass of wine or extends your child an invitation to their son or daughter’s birthday party isn’t a big deal to you – but for me, it’s like twenty five years of history gets unearthed every time I utter the response.