Read MoreTheir way of speaking as important as their quips. If I give you the details, you’d get distracted because tone and feelings were primary. Feelings I remember now: sad, humor, giggles, sliced thin truth, clever melancholy, thick sadness.
All of that in one-liner feelings. Eight minutes, 23 seconds.
Read MoreSu forma de hablar es tan importante como sus bromas. Si te doy los detalles, te distraerías porque el tono y los sentimientos eran primordiales. Sentimientos que recuerdo ahora: tristeza, humor, risas, verdad finamente cortada, melancolía inteligente, tristeza espesa.
Todo eso en sentimientos de una sola línea. Ocho minutos, 23 segundos.
Read MoreNot Buffalo, or Irvine, Uvalde, or Jayland Walker’s story will shock us enough to change. The paddles which electrify our hearts, aren’t built for centuries of hardened callouses.
A painful peeling must begin to dig at the crust which keeps us from feeling the pain of our scars and our perpetration of violence. May we find pause, this July 4th – to create intentional anti-racist communities which feel and see and hear.
May we remember Stonechild Chiefstick.
Because, his life matters.
Cruel mysteries surround us
About a plundered earth
Where people are pillaged,
Possessions cherished,
And cravings for power, insatiable.
With certain skin shades despised
While another is idolized.
Where there are wars and walls,
Image bearers banished to cages.
Read MoreHope is like believing someone. A feeling of trust or something like that. Hope is hmmmmm.
Read More2020 is covered by a dark cloud of hopelessness. A cloud that threatens to suffocate us. A cloud that shows no signs of dissipating.
This overwhelming presence of hopelessness continues to creep toward us and pound on the door to our mind, body, and soul wanting us to give up and let it come pouring in.
Read MoreI am celebrating the resurrection of a brown Jesus who ate with wine-drinkers and tax collectors, elevated women to power, healed the untouchables, called religious leaders to pass through the eye of a needle, and gave a murderer deathbed forgiveness and entrance into Heaven.
Read MoreRead MoreWild hope dares me to keep believing, lean in. It is the “John the Baptist” kind of wild. I throw prayers, dreams, visions back to God, asking for answers, peace, and justice. I imagine John the Baptist, bearded, eyes alert, bearing witness to culture, anticipating a new way of living. He paces, dreaming – speaking – driven by calling. Yeah, that’s the same category of wild, I think.
