Hope When You Hurt
As I walk, I see gates everywhere—most closed, some locked, a few standing open. And beyond the gates, rhododendrons dressed in mauve and fuscia and pink, fountains of canary yellow…
“No longer my own”: the good news
The Sunday bulletin slipped through the mail slot in my door. I’d been home sick and a friend had dropped it off. I read the simple liturgy used that week…
One thing to do when you’re hurting
“Push into the burning,” I used to tell laboring women when their time to push had come. Some did it naturally, unable to hold back from the powerful forces at…