The couch in the Jordan River was a surprise. No, it was worse than that; it was downright obscene. I’d had an appointment with God for months, from the moment I’d received my itinerary. A holy moment on my calendar, penned in permanent ink. And now I stood along the upper reaches of the Jordan, … Continue reading The Couch in the Jordan River
Sometimes I bump into some cool people and interesting stuff, which might not happen if I could see where I were going.
Jack—the whole, human mess of him—brings me face to face with the problem of being tolerant vs. standing up for myself as a woman.
Dark nights happen to some and not others, and only God knows why. St. John of the Cross called it a holy experience. Tell that to my priest, I wanted to say. Tell it to my husband, who still mourns the “nice Christian girl” he thought he married.
In spite of my best efforts, I am just not a secular person. I'm fascinated by religion, drawn irresistibly toward its ceremonies and symbolism like a moth to the flickering heart of a votive.
Yesterday my husband and I planted a tree. It seemed like a hopeful thing to do in these uncertain and disheartening times. I felt all spiritual about it, I won’t lie. I am a person who hugs trees. I’ve hugged them on hiking trails and in my own backyard. As a human, there’s little else … Continue reading In Which I Meditate Upon Trees and Grasp at Hopefulness in Spite of the Impending Election and My Own Personal Problems
A couple of days ago a co-worker asked me if I were Christian and I didn’t know how to answer.
