my daughter told me i have a beautiful heart and that i needed to keep my peace, keep my calm, so the morning after the election i ended up at a yoga class. the instructor arrived and unlocked the door. she was a young black woman. she said good morning and i said it back.
i am just another white woman walking in his shop. just another tourist on vacation with my blonde hair and my cute as a button daughter. i’m picking up sandals and trying to decide if i want to spend too much money on shoes. “quaint.” earlier i’d heard a man say it behind me
i get prayer. it’s not a holy moment for healing and restoration. it isn’t a ritual. pray with me, jesus asked the disciples and they tried. they really did. but they fell asleep. i pray because i can’t do this. the world around me. the things i know. i pray because, really, what else is
someone told me i was disobedient and just not simple enough. why can’t i take god at his word and believe? great. just great. okay, it wasn’t actually a person who said this. it was a book. alright, it was a theologian from 1916 yelling across time. fine. it was oswald chambers. i really like
“don’t try to scale the heights to find god. look in the depths. where people suffer, among the poor, the hungry, the abused – there is jesus christ.” ~ rich nathan when everyday is privilege, why celebrate any day? if everyday is luxury, why shoot fireworks off into the sky? the fourth of july
we woke up early and headed out to conkle’s hollow. my three hikers. one of them barely up to my waist. we didn’t know what we were in for or what we’d need for the time. we didn’t know what we’d see. i fill up the swimming pool in the backyard. it’s too hot and
i’ve never been hungry enough to beg. i’ve not come to the startling conclusion, plain as day, that i could start asking the people walking by that have if they would give to me so that i could eat. if i were that hungry and the idea made such sense, it would be a miracle