What is a woman made of?

Today is International Women’s Day. A day that is historically linked to the women’s rights movement. That’s complicated for me for reasons I won’t bog down this post with. I’ll just focus on what’s simple. Women have possessed an incalculable, intrinsic worth since the

The Sparkling Star in Your Hand

On memory and legacy.

Talking To Myself in Public

My Family History is Now a Brand at Target

The enslaved women of Gee’s Bend pieced together scraps of fabric to make quilts in abstract patterns. The patterns and piecing styles were passed down over generations, surviving slavery, reconstruction, and Jim Crow. Now they’re in Target stores.

What To Do With A God Who Makes You Breakfast

What seems so ordinary about this moment is exactly what makes it extraordinary. Jesus is teaching his disciples a profound lesson: a resurrected life is a life that serves.

Your worth, your calling.

In the decision-making process, the only thing more important than knowing if a choice is worth making is knowing the worth of the one making the choice.

Why I'm Writing Things on the Internet

I sat in my dorm room one evening when I was a freshman at the University of Colorado at Boulder. I was clicking around on my Gateway desktop computer, probably violating all kinds of piracy laws. It was just after midnight, when I realized that yesterday was my mom’s

Seeking God in the Sorrow

When it comes to being a Christian, I’ve done all the things. I’m a credentialed minister. I’ve worked in full-time vocational ministry for the past 15 years. My faith has taken me around the world to serve communities, preach the gospel, conduct research, and reach the lost.

On God's Glory & My Miscarriage

I had a miscarriage last November, and it crippled me creatively. Don’t pity me, these are just the facts. I haven’t been creating things because I lost the most precious of created things. And it rendered me incapable of expressing myself in the way that has always been

ancestor. (a poem)

the magnificence of you is manifested in momma’s hands as she braids rows of corn into my head they know necessity, know unity, know pain i writhe, and resent the screw-tight plaits she says, “be still” she says, “sit back” i melt into the mauvish carpet and cringe “how