Last weekend, I sent my daughters to Sunday school at church. It’s the same church where my best friend was raped repeatedly in high school. Our family begins worship together. The head pastor—not the one who was there, intentionally blind, when our youth pastor violated my friend—raises a hand of blessing over the kids. “You …
Peace is a tough-britches choice
I am a creature of habit. Every morning, I browse one of my four usual advice columns as I eat two eggs, toast and tea. I tackle the same chores on the same days of the week. I love the second in a series of murder mysteries because by the second book, I know what …
I Did Not Want to Go to My Grandmother’s Funeral for The Mudroom
The night my already-sick grandma took a turn for the worse, my husband asked if I thought I’d go to her funeral. “Oh, hell no,” I said, without thinking. He looked startled, there in our bathroom. We were getting ready for bed, letting our bodies slow down for the end of the day. But now my heart …
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When doing the right thing feels like betrayal: for SheLoves
A few months before I told on my sister, I paged through the current Teen Magazine.There was an article about anorexia and bulimia, and what to do if you—or someone you loved—suffered from them. Tell, the article said. Tell. My sister, Katie, had gotten the stomach flu over Christmas. Except I noticed, sharing a bathroom with her, …
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When Your Scruples Suffocate You
Every night, after my kids are tucked in bed, I begin. The two books are stacked on my er, one on top of the other. The fatter book has a gold cross emblazoned on its black cover. The taller book is a Moleskine notebook. Next to the stack is a black felt-tipped pen. I sit …
The Gospel According to Nine Inch Nails
I was alone in my parents’ house when Nine Inch Nails helped change my life. It was a few months after college graduation. I was listening to music while I packed everything—after just unpacking. Not long before, my mom had told me I had two weeks to get out. It was just me, a bass …
I thought I’d do a new friend a favor and not make friends at all
I realized Joy went to church with me on Pentecost Sunday. I sat with my parents at the special outdoor service, held in the local high school stadium. In the bleachers before it began, I shaded my eyes with my hand to see the stage. There was a girl up there. A girl my age. Joy. …
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Yoga, Cultural Appropriation, and Hospitality: For Christ and Pop Culture
My first prenatal yoga class, I tried to pretend the picture didn’t bother me. It was huge—at least five feet tall, framed imposingly, colored in bright pinks and blues as if the figure had posed on the beach at sunset. She was a Hindu goddess, I thought. I didn’t know which, or have any idea …
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When God Stitches Me Together
I can’t tell if I’m in a mending or tearing season. Those two opposites seem of the same piece the more I live them. As soon as I tear something, the work of mending starts, and the mending does not start without the tearing. Faith can’t exist without active, often painful engagement. It’s not enough, sometimes, …
Four Questions that Saved My Faith
I used to be afraid of asking questions about my faith. I avoided reading up controversial topics because the arguments might chip away at beliefs. I tried not to notice my cynicism or bitterness about Christian media or church services or spiritual practices. The problem was that the longer I ignored my questions, the weaker …
When theology is like a bad diet
My friend and I were talking about theology the other day. She comes from a more conservative background than I do, and told me that she has been thinking a lot about some of her beliefs—core beliefs of her upbringing—and wondering if she really, truly believes them. Prone to wander, my friend said of her penchant for …
Grieving the Bible
I read the Bible all the way through for the first time when I was thirteen. I picked it up every Sunday after the first service at our new church in San Diego, waiting for my parents to finish with choir. I’d pull the volume off the shelf in the church library, get a chunk …
Abusers are people too
Trigger warning: sexual abuse When I was a junior in college, my mom called with bad news. “Heather,” she said, “Someone made allegations about [my youth pastor’s name]. She said he molested her.” My first reaction? Complete disbelief. Our youth pastor had inspired both love and disdain in our church. His whole tenure, various leaders …
I am trying to forgive my grandmother. Here’s why.
(Trigger warning—sexual abuse) My grandmother is slight, white-haired, slow to speak, and nearly lost to dementia. For a year or so now, she has been in a nursing home, unwillingly. Years ago when I would visit, she would serve me breakfast: a bowl of fresh home-grown raspberries in a white bowl, or toast with homemade freezer jam that …
Tearing apart my Bible for SheLoves Magazine
When I was little, I would trail my mom to the fabric store nearly every month. It was middling in my list of errands: no toys, but the pattern books did provide some pre-Pinterest craft browsing. My mom would finger washable silk or ultra-suede, and I’d flip pages, trying to be patient. Once she decided, we’d …
The power the good witch wields: #wordmadeart
This week’s prompt for the Word Made Art is to have a kid draw something in your Bible. Honestly, this one scared me. You’d think being a homeschooling mom, getting my kids involved in my projects would be a no-brainer. But the honest truth, my hermit’s heart is alive and well. I love my kids, …
When prayer loses its meaning, what then?
My writing buddy Kelly O’Dell Stanley entrusted me with this gem of a guest post–a letter to herself as a girl. Her new book, Praying Upside Down, released last week, and I’m so honored to share some of her gorgeous thoughts on what can come after our earnest prayers lose their meaning. Dear, sweet girl. You lie …
Wish Being Authentically Yourself Were Effortless?
Not that long ago, I paged through a lovely online shop of hand-lettered artwork. Bible verses. Pithy phrases. Famous quotes. They’re all designed to make you feel uplifted and brave. Instead, I felt horribly small. I dabble in calligraphy. I was obsessed with it as a kid, and have hand-lettered two books because I love making words …
Dead stone come to life
When I think of resurrection, I think of a stone on my kitchen counter. I picked it up at the beach last year. It’s smooth and gray, like most of the rocks on the beach, with one difference: The holes. One hole pierces its middle. Two opened seashells lodge in another empty space like baby …
When Success Feels Like Failure
The day I met Leonardo DiCaprio, I was on a shoot for a Rice Krispies commercial. The director faced me as I sat on some steps in front of some LA high rise. It was the tenth or eleventh take, and I already knew, with a pit in my stomach, that I was not pleasing …
Am I ashamed of my privilege and wealth?
When my sister would come home from the children’s home on visits, the first thing we would do was show each other our stuff. I watch my children doing this with friends: a sort of inventory-as-friendship. After all, until you know what’s exciting and fresh and new, how can you decide what to play? So …
Learning to Choose Well Even When I’m Afraid
My mistake was hurrying. Of course, I had good reason to hurry. At my daughter’s art class I’d missed three phone calls in a row from my husband. He was home with our youngest. When I called back, no one was there to pick up. He was supposed to be there. Where was he? What had happened? …
Strength out of trash: #wordmadeart
This week’s #wordmadeart prompt is to make some pages of your Bible smaller. It’s lifted straight out of one of Keri Smith’s book, Wreck This Journal. I thought the idea of pages of the Bible becoming bigger or smaller seemed particularly evocative. One reason: it’s the way we read scripture, right? Some pages, like the first …
When the Rain Does Not Come–for The Mudroom
I used to watch the summer monsoons as if they were a picture show. Our house was perched at the top of a hill overlooking Tucson. Every August, thunderheads would roll over the bluish hills and send their pencil-sketch lightning bolts down over the glittering city. I’d turn off all the lights, spin the barrel …