“Pastor, I’m really missing communion too,” she said to me. (The ‘too’ is because I had just been grumping about it.) “I’m thinking of making bread at home and gathering my boys around me and just doing it. God won’t refuse to show up, right? We let laypeople baptize in an emergency, don’t we?” Oh …
In which I have to go dumpster diving in my clergy collar because LENT.
A recent blog post unironically claimed that men prefer debt-free virgins without tattoos. We asked biblical women to respond.
I had gotten so used to having my religious vocation be the first thing people noticed about me. I had gotten so used to being seen as a pastor first and a woman second.
I had a lovely vision of how this Reading Week would go--an organized ballet of assignment completion, self-care, and chores. But lo, this vision now lies in ruin, for I have been visited by the Four Horseman of Grad School Scholarship.
We don't change that lightbulb. Ethel Achanbach donated that lightbulb to the church in '66. Are you holding an LED replacement, missy? Do you have a problem with incandescent?!
So, I've been struggling to figure out how to write this post for a while. Just like you probably are, I'm following the events in Israel/Palestine with a growing pit of grief burning in my gut. When I visited this place seven months ago, the political situation was strained (as usual) but stable, and Israel …
Lyrics for the tune to "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" that make it an actual hymn! Hooray!
A reflection on the ironies of adulthood, told with photographic help from Barnaby.
I'm not sure how healthy it is, nor how faithful it is, that we seem to have drawn such deep emotional lines between the cross of Good Friday and the empty tomb of Easter Sunday.