For the last ten years my heart has been wrestling and processing through the strong sense that both Church and what it means to be in community were changing. The journey has, at times, been desperately lonely, but it has also been filled with beautiful conversations and experiences with people like you. The invitation before us is to begin to see again as we join God's work in making all things new.


    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.


    For What We Have and Who We Hold

    She woke close to her normal time, and cried out for someone, anyone to rescue her from the confines of her lonely crib. She made it 4 hours, which is a victory – in the sick and twisted parental-trenches-kind-of-way. She’s 19 months and a ball of fire in the best way.

    There have been countless nights of pleading with her to go to bed; to stay in bed; to sleep like a big girl. Countless nights of wishing we didn’t have to step so gently or purposefully on our old wooden floors. Nights we wish we had more time to connect with one another before one of us was lost to the rocking chair and the other to exhaustion.


    You Lift My Heart With Ease

    I wrote this for my son Nash last year. The news headlines remind us that our world is filled with darkness and heartache and evil. I am convinced that we must find and remind ourselves of the goodness that surrounds us. So write it down, tell that story, post that picture and let us remind each other of the goodness we so often overlook.


    Seat Buffers and Singing

    In the church I usually attend there is always room for a seat buffer. Always enough space to stay hidden and unnoticed. Always enough space to avoid eye contact. Always enough space to keep to myself. Always enough space to do my thing (consume) and leave.

    Last Sunday I attended a small and cozy space, much different from what I’m used to. There was no seat buffer.


    The Hidden Voice

    Reading to our son Nash is one of our most beloved rhythms. We enter a world where time stands still and pages spring to life.

    I can still remember the very first story Kate and I ever read to Nash. We settled into bed, our infant son swaddled between us, and we opened On the Night You Were Born” by Nancy Tillman. I managed three words before I was a mess. (The I cannot speak another word variety). Gratitude and thankfulness poured out of me.


    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.