I recently had the privilege of attending a Taylor Swift concert. And yes, it was a privilege.
As a young child, I held aspirations of joining the military. I remember our imaginary play through back street alleys and vacant lots included re-enacting scenes from the latest war movie that we watched on television.
Mary must have been so frightened.
Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.
I was sitting on the dock of our diocesan camp, the Barbara C Harris Center, when I began feeling uncomfortable.
In the early months of the pandemic, locked down with my young children in a too small city row house with no real backyard to speak of, I found myself losing my patience, something already in short supply, much like milk, diapers, and grocery delivery slots.
Mom, I thought Jesus had white skin?
For a friendship more separate than equal, we don our funeral black, and sign the guest book on the way in, all our children watching and following our lead with solemnity.
The Feast of Pentecost is loaded with profound and fantastical readings of scripture.
This year, Saint Julian’s feast day coincides with Mother’s Day.