Character may be manifested in the great moments, but it is made in the small ones.
A lunch bag, a water bottle, and an empty tissue box
Not one person in my life would accuse me of being chronically organized.
My Mother, Psalm 23, and an Awesome Tree
It’s possible that I’m turning into my mom.
Stalling on the Dock of the Bay
I was sitting on the dock of our diocesan camp, the Barbara C Harris Center, when I began feeling uncomfortable.
Hallowing the Change
Our son’s first tooth fell out this past week.
Sabbath by Sprain
I think it all happened because the eighteen-year-old boy behind the counter called me ma’am.
Longing for God and Something Familiar in Advent
As if on cue, every second Sunday of Advent my husband and I get into an argument about the correct type of lights to hang in order to welcome baby Jesus, the incarnate God, into the world.
The Season of the Snipe
Is there such a thing as the liturgical season of the snipe? The side-eye? The passive aggressive glare, or the directly aggressive loading or unloading of the dishwasher?
No? Well, there should be.
The Spiritual Practice of Slathering
It’s late to be writing a post about Lent, but I’m of the modest opinion that the practices you take on in Lent aren’t just seasonal.
The miter fit her just fine: the Rt. Rev. Barbara C. Harris
Bishop Barbara C. Harris died on March 13th, 2020, where I’m sure God welcomed her with the same words and emotion she shared with a friend upon her entrance into the convention center filled with 8,000 people at her consecration: “What a hell of a welcome!”