Unoffendable

I live in a household of women. Between myself and my four teenage daughters, we get caught in a crossfire of hurt feelings rather frequently. Someone, it seems, is always offended by a sister or two. She borrowed my shoes without asking; they’re not watching the movie I wanted; she got new jeans when I… Continue reading Unoffendable

Red Rover, Red Rover

Hands raised, tears streaming down my cheeks, worshiping in a sea of women at the Lit Conference, I saw a vision in my mind’s eye- all 740 of us ladies¬†linked arm and arm, moving forward, a rushing wave. The power of it floored me and the solidarity of it convicted me. If you read my… Continue reading Red Rover, Red Rover

Dear Women of the Church

Dear Women of the Church, I owe you an apology. I have sinned against you and I am sorry. Ladies, I have been called to love you and I have failed. Instead, I have idolized you. I have typecast you. I have oversimplified you. Mostly, I have feared you. For the entirety of my fourteen… Continue reading Dear Women of the Church

Making Chipatis

Saturday evenings, I pull into the driveway and lay on the horn Summoned by the sound, four teenagers unfurl too slowly from beneath their laptops Drag leaden limbs out through the garage to haul bags of groceries from the trunk To the kitchen counter,¬†where each item is unpacked, appraised and rotated into The fridge, broad… Continue reading Making Chipatis

An Open Letter to Beth Moore

Dear Beth, Forgive me for the familiarity but, though we’ve never met, we’re actually very close. We’ve belly laughed together, wept together, and studied together. You’ve been with me in small groups gathered in living rooms, huddled in church sanctuaries, and curled up in coffee houses. Beth, I’m just one of the countless spiritual daughters… Continue reading An Open Letter to Beth Moore

Old Hurts

Some hurts have a way of digging in deep and popping up at inconvenient moments. I finally stopped crying this morning long enough to emerge from my car in the back parking lot and sneak into my office. I kept my hair down, which is the secret for these kinds of days, a drape around… Continue reading Old Hurts