Standing Tall, Feeling Small

I’ve been fingerprinted several times, from our international adoption to TSA Pre-Check. There’s nothing like it for making me feel clumsy—my hands are not my own as someone else rolls my fingers this way and that—or for making me feel like a criminal when I’ve done nothing...
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Seeing in Color

  A well-meaning friend recently told me that she does not “see color.” By which she meant she did not take note of the color of someone’s skin, but instead, she insisted, looked people in the eye. It is a noble sentiment, and one I used to espouse before I became the mother...
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The Banners We Raise

State endorsement of Christianity (or any religion) is naturally temporary. Trends come and go, and with them all forms of tolerance—or intolerance. Yet Christians today seem to take comfort in perceiving ourselves to be in (secular) power; we should not.
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The Names We Give

  I have taught in schools, seminaries, and churches all my adult life. My first job was as babysitter to my cousins, followed by nursery attendant at my church. My first job after college was teaching pre-school, where I was assigned immediately to the beleaguered...
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Read Love First

  When he was in high school, my eldest son was assigned Jonathan Edwards’s famous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” He was to compare it with a sermon of his own choosing—one his deeply Calvinist teacher might expect him to find wanting in light of the...
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A Patina of Prayer

After a meeting of local clergy leaders hosted by our parish (on the lawn, due to Covid restrictions), one of the pastors mentioned that he had never been inside our church. Knowing that most clergy enjoy snooping around places of worship, I offered him a brief tour of our...
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Walking Away

  When my second son was born, the nurse did not proclaim “It’s a boy!” as one would expect. Instead her words were “Looks like you got a redhead.” Indeed, he was pink from tip to tail with a shock of red hair that stood up like a sail, or, in my imagination, like Woody...
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What’s in a Name?

Sure, we tolerate the immigrant and the minority, but do we accept them for who they are, with their curly hair, broken English, strange foods, and cultural habits? Or do we complain that they’re too loud, too intimidating, too distracting, or simply exotic?
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Unfinished Writing

  Spring, 2019: I started off the day with a rather reluctant middle-school Sunday School class. The hour was early for them, and they had not yet fully realized their daily resurrection from the dead. At some point, in a moment of attitude (adult version, I can be almost as...
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Singing in the Darkness

  “Rejoice now, heavenly hosts and choirs of angels, and let your trumpets shout salvation for the victory of our mighty king . . .” These are the opening words of the Exsultet, the chant sung by the deacon at the Great Vigil of Easter invoking all powers and creatures to...
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