You seem surprised, the way winter is always surprised by spring: But when the sky splinters above you, with rain and rain and rain, you have not forgotten how to dance. So how is it that you have never thought to ask what it meant when the rock beneath your dancing feet was as solid … More Birth


“Show me a miracle, Lord,” I shout, my voice rough with sorrow. (Minneapolis bleeds under my feet, and my preschoolers tell me, wide-eyed, that hope looks like a lion). I clamor louder in demand of an answer, afraid of silence. “Show me a miracle, Lord,” they shout, their voices sharp with impatience. (Galilee bleeds under their feet, … More Miracle


The wine runs out, they tell me.   You will run and run and run in pursuit of passion and life and more, but always the wine runs out.   And it’s true.   It is vanity, chasing after wind, and every good fight that I have ever fought ends when the wine runs out. … More Cana

Fear and (re)awakening

They don’t understand what it’s like, you realize, as you try to explain–to a class of freshman males at your university, no less–what it’s like to be female and alone when you’re walking at night. You get angry, instead of explaining, and then you are silent, because what good does it do anyway? Aren’t they all … More Fear and (re)awakening


For the stormchaser.  For so long, the only words I could form were words of regret— “You should have lived,  long and happy and well.” It’s true. You should have. You should not have left us the way you did, so young and so full of life. You should not have left us at all. … More Gratitude


I do not know this man in the stained glass. His robe is clean, he smiles serenely, and I do not recognize those wounds. Those are not wounds that say ‘it is finished;’ that clean-shaven image with its miniscule scars is a portrait that underestimates the darkness of Friday and misses the importance of Sunday … More Baptism

JRA. 4/11/11.

He was a storm chaser, I was the little girl with wings on my feet. Some days we talked about dark skies and the kind of rain that made everything new, and on others I confessed that the wings on my feet were broken. He said, “keep going.” So I did.   He was a champion, … More JRA. 4/11/11.