In the first week of Advent—no, make it a good week before Advent, sometime in the run-up to Thanksgiving—the first sound came to me: rum

I became infatuated with vinyl records as a kid. My dad would buy little 45 singles and my brother and I would listen to them

I’m writing this blog for me and you. It’s about our personal and collective response to racism, particularly a kind of communicative praxis that I

The Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving I left the house to run errands—only to spot a large, brown mass huddled in the snow underneath my front

Joy doesn’t come easily to me. Or more accurately, exuberance. Skipping like a lamb isn’t a way I typically emote. Is it my Dutch Reformed

A few months ago,  early one morning, on my way into one of the hospitals where I work occasional chaplain shifts, I was making the

by Marijke Strong A six week commitment to writing has shown me how habitually I pile up words, often in play but sometimes also (if

  Director Ridley Scott had me at the thundering hooves. I should not have enjoyed the two-and-a-half hours I spent watching Exodus: Gods and Kings—there