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Self Reflection

    His Boots Were Caked With Mud

    If I sat down with you for a coffee and asked you what the central message of the Church was, what would you say?

    Perhaps after we collectively spent a few minutes venting about the hypocritical judgmentalism prevalent in the Church your response might go something like this, ‘well, I guess to leave this place. To make sure I’m going to heaven.”


    My Dreamer is Broken

    She looked up from her vanilla reindeer drink with glistening eyes and found the courage to whisper “the dreamer in me is broken.” I thought for a moment; careful to avoid a rushed response that would dishonor her vulnerability. We sat together in sacred silence for a few moments before we sensed a permission to continue with words.


    You are Good, You are Loved

    My hands paused for an extra moment this morning; hovering over the shoes that would carry you off to Kindergarten. For a fleeting moment I thought if I waited long enough I could turn back the clock. Perhaps time would settle into stillness long enough so I could revisit all the times I’ve rushed you out of childhood and forgotten you are still beautifully wrapped in innocence and wonder.


    The Spring Mud

    Spring. I love the way that the light lingers through the dinner hour and I no longer feel like my reality is characterized by darkness. I love the warmth of the sun on my face as I listen to the melting snow and ice. I love that our neighborhood bursts forth with new life as we collectively emerge from our sub-zero hibernation.


    I Keep Waiting

    I’m well-versed in waiting.

    I wait for the perfect moment, or until everybody else has already acted.

    In elementary school I waited for people to stop tight-rolling their jeans before I followed suit. In high school I waited to ask a certain girl out until I had full assurance from her friends that her answer would be yes. She said no.