I’m a stained glass artist. When people ask what I do, I sometimes joke that I "play with broken glass." It’s a flip-sounding line for a deeply intentional art form. The truth is, when I break a sheet of glass, I do so with immense care. My cutter, slick with special oil, scores a precise…
The Tyranny of Forever
Have you ever stumbled upon an old journal entry and felt an immediate, full-body cringe? A desperate urge to travel back in time, grab your younger self by the shoulders, and say, "For the love of all that is good, that poet-sleeve blouse is a terrible idea"? I had one of those the other day…
Don’t Be a Santa…err, I Mean, SPIRIT, Spoiler
A few years back, the former minister of my congregation did a sermon series that has really stuck with me. It was called "Words that Unite, Words that Divide," and for nearly half a church year, we wrestled with all the terms that tend to make UUs twitchy. We dug into words like evangelism, holy,…
Chronically Extra
Last Friday, I was living my best life, hosting our congregation's very first drag show. I looked FABULOUS. My makeup was gagging. My hair was hairing. And I was, yet again, draped in a cloud of Betsy Johnson designed baby pink tulle and pastel rainbow crinolines – yes, my wedding dress made yet another real…
Drag Queens, Unicorn Snot, and Holy Moments
One of the oldest members of our congregation, a wise and wonderful woman in her 90s, pulled me aside after our worship service this past Sunday. Her eyes were bright. “I've always believed the saying that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it ultimately bends towards justice,” she said, her voice steady.…
I Really COULD Care Less
Yeah, I know. The phrase is I really COULDN'T care less. I get it. It's a grammatical pet peeve of mine too. The "typo" is intentional. Believe me, there really ARE times when you could care less than you do. I've been learning that lesson for the past year or so. About a year ago…
A Great, Wild Mercy
It was one of those Sundays. You know the kind I mean – the ones that feel like a cosmic apology for every Monday morning you’ve ever endured. As a minister who’s also a parent, a true Sunday morning off is a rarer bird than a dodo sighting, so I was soaking it in. There…
The Incredible Un-Forever
Why "the end" isn't a dirty word...
The Unbearable Necessity of Zuckerberg’s Wasteland
Right. Let's just get this over with. Guess who crawled back to Zuckerberg this morning..... Against my better judgment, and with a level of profound irritation I usually reserve for politicians explaining tax cuts for the obscenely wealthy, I am reactivating my Facebook account. For those of you who followed my rather pointed departure back…
The Glorious Art of Napping in a Dumpster Fire
Right? Just… right? If you’ve recently found yourself staring blankly at your phone, possibly wondering if you accidentally subscribed to a 'Daily Dose of Global Despair' newsletter you don’t remember signing up for, feeling like you’ve run an emotional marathon sponsored by existential dread… hello, kindred spirit. Welcome. We have stale virtual coffee and collectively…
VoyagersHeart 