For the past eight weeks, my home base has been designated the Special Pathogens Unit of the hospital, which delivers vital care for hospitalized patients infected with COVID-19.
When I worked with youth, one of my favorite events was an agape meal. It started as a Seder and I eventually started calling it “What Would Jesus Eat” which I found hilarious.
As this article is being written, I am on the 20th day being home with my husband, two small children, and my mother.
I live in Austin, Texas, where, along with much of the country, I expect to remain under a “Shelter in Place” order during Palm Sunday. What a strange contradiction on a Sunday in which we would ordinarily march around the streets of the church, waving palm branches, and loudly singing, “Hosanna in the highest!”
Palm Sunday will be here in just a few short days and I am not ready for it. I’m not ready for Holy Week as a priest, as a parent, or as an individual person trying to follow Christ. And yet, it’s coming.
Earlier this winter I started participating in our church’s weekly women’s group, which was finishing up The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown.
The voices in my head were getting louder. The ones that all mothers know. My daughter whispered tentatively through my closed bedroom door, “Mama. I’m hungry.” Again? I thought, “Just a minute.”
I threw the best spiral of my life yesterday afternoon.
oday, the Episcopal Church commemorates Timothy and Titus, two companions of Saint Paul. Timothy and Titus were younger believers whom Paul entrusted with leadership responsibilities in the early Church. They were companions and fellow workers with Paul in ministry, but what strikes me most today is that they were also his spiritual children.
I love Epiphany. I love the stories of the Magi, Anna, Simeon, Paul, Peter, the wedding guests, and others who realize who Jesus is and why he has come.