Over a year ago, I left Romania shaky and weepy. My three-ish month stint serving at a survivor shelter for vulnerable women and children was watershed, seismic, and numinous. My eyes had been opened to a deep running river of Christ’s love, weaving in and around heartbreak, abuse, trauma, and exploitation, ending in assured restoration,…… Continue reading For Such A Time As This
The Saturday before last, I was begrudgingly convicted that I should go to my church’s fundraiser for their big location move (from a bar to a mall, which could launch a fascinating conversation about urban spaces and the space we’re called to occupy as Christians, but we’ll save that rumination for a rainy day). A…… Continue reading Calligraphy and Arrows
You know that feeling when you try to wake up from a self-induced NyQuil coma and you’re kinda awake and moving, but also like, are you even? Living in Southeast Asia for nearly six months now has been like experiencing that transcendent, hazy dream-like state constantly interspersed with acute moments of the deepest, sharpest realities…… Continue reading Joy, Unspeakable Joy
A little boy and his grandfather walk along the beach one morning during low tide. The ocean had washed up hundreds of starfish overnight and they were now drying out on the shore, unable to get back to the water. The little boy was upset by the sight of all the dying sea life and…… Continue reading Social Justice and Starfish
When we decided as a family to adopt my little brother and sister, I was 20 years old. My biological siblings’ ages ranged from 22 to 14. I was living at home after graduating college and was working to save money to get the heck out of Dodge. Looking back at the confusion and frustration…… Continue reading Advice for Older Siblings of Adopted Children
(A Listicle: brought on by melancholic thoughts of leaving for a year and reflecting on the women in my family who inspire me and nurture my love of learning ((preferably in beautiful buildings)). When I think of these places, it’s not just the memories I have of them there but of who they are to…… Continue reading Women In My Life as Museums
