My father died twenty-six years ago, today, August 30, 2000. There is nothing culturally significant about a twenty-sixth anniversary. It is not a milestone. It is simply one more year… read more

There will always be something else demanding your attention. Something unfinished. Something broken. Something frightening. Something you need to figure out. There will be another headline to read, another message… read more

When we fall. Not if. There is something startling about that distinction. We are accustomed to being told to keep going. We are considerably less accustomed to being told that… read more

Trying something a little different this week. Click “play” above. Enjoy! [Verse] Out of the depths of history, a tale unfolds, of a people resilient as time is old. The… read more

There is a kind of grief that doesn’t get a funeral. No flowers. No cards. No shared stories over food. Just silence. And the slow, aching realization that what you… read more

I Am a Murderer. I don’t mean this as poetry or hyperbole. I mean it literally, as confession. Three lives ended because of me: a toad,  my friend’s dog, and… read more

A meditation on carrying life’s heaviest emotions—guilt, grief, shame, and regret.

My dear, beloved congregation, When we find ourselves confronted with the death of someone close to us, it serves as a stark reminder of the impermanence of all things in… read more