Life. Love. Liturgy.
  • Gathering place
  • Thealogical Lady: A Blog
  • Books
  • Contact

In the wake of Orlando

6/17/2016

0 Comments

 
As a cisgender, heterosexual, white person, I have taken the words of my LGBTQ+ friends to heart over the last week and quieted myself so that they and their community could be heard in the wake of the devastation at Pulse in Orlando, Florida.

As a minister, however, I also have a responsibility not to keep silent forever, because my silence might imply my endorsement or approval of the actions of the man who shot and killed/wounded over a hundred members of the Latinx LGBTQ community.

Let me be clear: it is not the will or desire of God (whom I call Thea) that LGBTQ people should be targets of violence. It is not Thea's will that LGBTQ people should in any way change or hide or be ashamed of their sexual identity. Individuals and communities that intentionally marginalize/persecute the LGBTQ community for their sexuality are absolutely wrong to do so, full-stop. These persecutors are the ones who need to change, not the ones they persecute.

I mourn for the precious lives lost and those that were forever changed in this mass shooting. I also mourn for the shooter, whose life was lost fighting the wrong fight. I pray for peace, solace, and love to envelop the LGBTQ community so they might heal and be strengthened to be who they are with enormous pride, and I pray for compassion, a desire for mutual understanding, and forgiveness among all of us, because we could all use much more of that. As for me, I have spent this week letting my LGBTQ friends know that I love them and I'm thinking of them, and I've also spent this week lovingly communicating with those who would promote marginalization of another group, those who follow Islam, in order to show that fundamentalist extremism does not equate or speak for religion as a whole. I've spent this week lifting up those in politics who can make a difference in keeping guns out of the wrong hands. I've done what I could, and I will continue to do what I can to ensure that a tragedy like this is forever a thing of the past. I pray that you and all of us will do the same--not just pray, but take tangible steps to prevent this kind of tragedy from ever taking place again.

I came across this psalm in my prayer today, and it seems to fit:

Psalm 79
 
O Thea, those who do evil have come among us;
   they have made Creation a pile of rubble.
 
They have shed blood like water throughout all of Creation,
   and there was no one to bury their victims.
 
Help them and us, O Thea! Change their hearts and ours;
   let your compassion be swift to meet us all and spread among us.
 
Help us, O Thea;
   deliver us and teach us your forgiveness,
   that we may taste and see the sweetness of your mercy.
 
O Thea, let the sorrowful sighing of those in chains come before you,
   and by your great might give hope to those who are condemned to die.
 
We will give you thanks forever
   and show forth your praise from age to age.
0 Comments

111

4/21/2015

0 Comments

 
Thea,
I overheard the table conversation of some followers of the Way.
One said to the other, "All paths lead to God."
The other replied, "None come to the Father except through Jesus."
I bit my tongue, and wondered if I should share the good news of you.
In the end I remained silent, knowing that's what I would want if the tables were turned.
Give me the grace to love the hearts of those who believe only-through-Jesus,
and give me the grace to love the many paths that lead to you.
Amen.



0 Comments

64

3/5/2015

0 Comments

 
Thea,
grant me the wisdom
to think before I speak,
so that I might do more good than harm.
Give me the energy to be silent
when silence is the surest route to healing.
Amen.
0 Comments

52

2/21/2015

1 Comment

 
Thea,
lover of whole and broken hearts,
you are witness to the last breath
of the suicide victim.
Abide with those
the victim leaves behind;
offer them your silent presence
in the victim's ringing absence.
Amen.

1 Comment

Spirit Whispers: Chrysalis

9/2/2014

0 Comments

 
These last few weeks, I've wrestled hard with the news I've read about what's going on in the United States and abroad. I've also reflected at length on the role I play in perpetuating and reinforcing the sin of the world. As a Christian, I am called to hope in Christ, the lamb who takes away the sin of the world--the sin I've helped nurture. As a Christian, I am also called to recognize that I am a member of the Body of Christ, the one who stands forever slain. To be a Christian is to be both the slain and the slayer, the risen and the rising.

The past few weeks have also been a hard lesson about my own capacity for empathy. The weight of the world's pain and suffering has settled heavily on me. Seeing any flicker of light in all this darkness has been a mighty effort.

When I've prayed the hours, I've prayed for those who are oppressed and for those who oppress. When I've led the singing at ECMASU's Sunday night Taizé service, I've prayed for my heart to be opened wider, so I might discover in what ways the world needs my gifts and my radical transformation. When even prayer has left me empty, I've clung to the trust that the dawn will arrive eventually, no matter how much darkness the world and I have created.

Someone told me recently that I was in a chrysalis, a cocoon, being transformed in the midst of palpable darkness from one form of life to another. I wonder if that's not true of the world. I wonder if all this darkness isn't leading us to a brilliant cascade of color that flutters lightly on the wind, bringing about God's peace and joy for the sake of all.

To what new life are you and I being called?
0 Comments

Spirit Whispers: When It Comes to Healing (Guest Post)

8/7/2014

0 Comments

 
Elizabeth A. Hawksworth is a published poet and historical fiction writer as well as a prominent blogger on topics of feminism, body positivity, fatphobia, writing, nannying, social justice, and spirituality. She is bold in writing about issues of ultimate concern when remaining silent and unnoticed would be, in the moment, easier. Here is part of her story.
A few hours north of Sarnia, Ontario, there is a quiet place nestled in a forest. Built with rustic logs, smelling like pine pitch, and surrounded by acres of misty trees, this small building stands, institutional and peaceful; utilitarian and somehow unique. In its natural surroundings, staring at a painting of the Baby Jesus, I found God.

Prayer, for me, has been a way to get through everyday life. I pray for health. I pray to be a better person. I pray for my family, my friends. I pray for things I want, things I don’t deserve, things I’m desperate about, things I can’t deal with. It’s not a fancy prayer. It’s often a mantra, repeated over and over, sometimes under my breath, sometimes out loud, sometimes mouthed in public places, and sometimes earnestly in the dark. And I pray every night, without fail, before I can close my eyes and sleep. I have to touch base. I have to let Him know. I need You. Please help me.

In that church retreat, hidden in the woods, I learned how to pray for more than just myself. I unlocked the talent I had all along – the talent of being able to use my words to change the world for the better. And I never felt closer to God, or more powerful with Him through me than I did then – creating creeds, weaving poetry, sharing with everyone my own personal faith, placing my feet on the path to social justice. If you had asked me then, I would have told you that I didn’t think I would ever be able to part from my relationship with God.

How things change.

I was badly wounded by the Church when I was a teenager. Shy, uncertain, and angry, I was struggling with my own sexuality and my sense of being. Holding hands with God, or so I thought, I faced the people who, also holding hands with God, told me that I didn’t belong. That I would burn in hell. That I was a sinner, a deliberate sinner, one who was so full of pride and bravado and hubris and lies, that I would never be welcome unless I changed who I was at the core. I had grown up solid in my belief that God makes us in His perfect image, and never makes mistakes. Now, I wasn’t sure if I was wrong, or if they were, but my hurt overwhelmed my faith.

I went back at 18, denying who I was. I joined a church of beauty and majesty, of tradition as old as time, and restrictions worse than any other church I’d ever been to. Was it punishment for the supposed sin of who I thought I was? To this day, I can’t answer that. All I know is that everywhere I turned, I found leaders, church members, even the Bible itself, it seemed, telling me that the person I am would never be good enough for God.

So I left. And I tried to forget.

I’m a rational person, most of the time. I also hold grudges, long after I should. And the hurt faded into twinges and then roared back to life in explosive, fiery anger. I wanted to hurt the Church the way it had hurt me. I wanted to hurt God. I wanted to burn in hell the way they said, just so that I could be myself without pretense, so I could live in sin without consequence and guilt.

And inside, I cried out for the God I knew in that quiet forest retreat. I begged Him to help me. I pushed Him away with both hands while simultaneously crying for Him in the night. And to His credit, He hasn’t let me go, though most days, I continue to angrily push and push and push, as hard as I can. He has forgiven me and continues to forgive me, despite all of my anger and moral failings, despite my hurt and my pride. He has quietly proven over and over that He thinks I am good enough for Him.

Knowing this, I suspect that one day, I will heal completely from my scars and from my open, bleeding wounds, the way that even the biggest wounds do heal. The scars will always hurt a little, but they won’t always be open and raw, ready to bleed again at another article about Christians saying “God hates fags”, or someone telling me that you can’t be Christian and gay.

But here’s the thing about healing. When you forgive someone, you don’t do it for them – not really. They benefit from it. They may think that you are doing them a favour. And maybe, part of healing is to acknowledge that you acted wrongly, too, even if at the time, you don’t think you did. Maybe part of it is to be like God, and not push away your fellow human, even if that fellow human has done cutting, horrible things to your psyche and to your sense of self.

The thing about healing is that forgiveness is mostly for you. It’s to reach out with your own humanity and be the bigger person. It doesn’t mean you forget, and it doesn’t mean that you have to draw that person back into your heart. What it does mean is that where the rushing, raging rivers have broken the bridge of faith, forgiveness helps to place new planks, to tie the knots back into the ropes. Where the bridge has rotted in places, forgiveness places brand new materials to make your bridge stronger than ever before. Where the bridge is shaky, forgiveness helps to steady it so that when you walk across it and try to meet God on the other side, it’s not so hard and scary to cross it.

Because when it comes to healing, it might take awhile. It might take a long time to rebuild your bridge. And I’m not saying that someone isn’t going to come along and say cutting things that will throw it into disrepair. I’ve rebuilt my bridge many times now . . . and I’ve begged God to help me find the strength to do it again.

Your bridge isn’t just to God. Your bridge is to your fellow humans, as well. The ones that put up walls to keep others out – your bridge goes to their door and invites them to come and meet you in the middle. The ones that tell you you’re not welcome – your bridge goes to them and tells them that they are welcome to come and belong with you. And the ones that meet you with hatred – your bridge shows them that the easier path is love.

Because maybe the place you’re all trying to reach is that little church retreat in the woods, with the whispering leaves and the distant rush of the many creeks. Maybe the path you all want to walk is the shady wide dirt path with the dappled sunlight through the trees, that wide and welcoming path that has benches to rest on and clear pools to drink from. Maybe the paths we choose are inevitably the harder ones because the stony paths teach you what smooth footing feels like, and we have to learn, in order to grow.

Maybe the pain and the blood are something we all experience, even when we’re the ones wielding the swords that hurt.  And maybe when it comes to healing, you find it in the silence and the dark, the pleas and the desperation, the fact that when you couldn’t walk anymore, He carried you – and carries you still.

Maybe when it comes to healing, it becomes the easier path to take – broken bridge, and all.
0 Comments

Spirit Whispers: Unworthy

6/27/2014

0 Comments

 
Through my silence practice every morning this week, my life has grown very quiet, and I'm noticing a new tone in my discernment about priestly call.

My failings and faults have surfaced with a most poignant sting. I've started questioning the call I'm hearing. I've dared the call I hear to change, to go away.

The funny (read: frustrating) part is that even as I've allowed myself to feel anxiety and doubt and worry during these silences, the call I hear hasn't wavered.


I hear this call even though I'm not perfect, not the best fit, not the holiest person, not the most balanced person, not the cookie cutter candidate.

As I continue to hear this call, I acknowledge that the outcome of all this discernment is irrelevant. My listening--my obedience--is the only thing that matters to the one I call God.

Will I continue to offer over my whole heart, no matter what outcome that offering brings forth?
0 Comments

Spirit Whispers: Come and listen to me

6/21/2014

1 Comment

 
I began a spiritual practice of silence this morning--ten minutes, first thing after getting the baby her morning milk, eyes closed, hands and body open to receive.

One thing I received was the final phrase from a
Taizé song: "Come and listen to me." I couldn't remember in that moment what song it came from--all I could remember were those words. Without context, the words took new shape. Was God bidding? Was I bidding? Was someone else bidding?

I realized that all three were doing the bidding.

My heart turned then toward the fruits of the Spirit, and then to spiritual and corporal works of mercy. As my silence ended, I wondered whether there were opportunities available to volunteer in local hospices and prisons--to listen, to be present, to abide in what is difficult and deeply transforming.

I found out that there are abundant hospice volunteer opportunities in the Valley of the Sun. I found far less when I was looking for volunteer opportunities for prison ministry, at least from within an Episcopal or interfaith context. I asked for help on Facebook and got information from two of the leaders from my parish, one of whom pointed me to a notice on the Trinity Cathedral website that Bishop Kirk Smith is planning a summit for those involved in or interested in prison ministry within the Episcopal Diocese of Arizona.

Coincidence? Spirit stirring in open hearts for the common good?

1 Comment

Spirit Whispers: Listen

6/18/2014

0 Comments

 
How does one listen anyway?

Take a deep breath.

Let silence envelop your entire awareness.


Be still.

How long is it before your thoughts quiet?

How long is it before you stop tracking how long it's been?

What is it like to sit, to wait, to let God play midwife to your pregnant silence?


How does this midwife move around you? Does she move at all? Does she clasp your hand? Does she sit back in a seat next to you and murmur words of encouragement? Does she simply wait with you, occasionally placing a hand on your swollen belly for signs of what is to come?

What needs to be tended at this moment? What needs to be waited on? What needs the midwife's gentle, firm, skillful assurance?


What will you bear forth from your listening?

0 Comments

A Collaborative Call For Submissions

5/3/2014

0 Comments

 
In a unique collaboration between Fey Publishing and Solarwyrm Press, and thanks to an idea put together by M. Kate Allen, a new anthology of short stories will be produced at the end of May 2014 in honor of the over two-hundred Nigerian girls who were kidnapped at gunpoint by the religious terrorists of Boko Haram on April 14, 2014. All proceeds from sales of this anthology will be donated to http://www.notforsalecampaign.org, an organization that seeks to uncover and put a stop to human trafficking and slavery of all kinds.

The stories in this anthology will address enslaving and enslavement. To the extent that you, the writer, are free from the dangers and enslavement that these Nigerian girls and millions of others presently suffer, you are asked to take great care in considering your own privilege as you weave your tale. The stories in this anthology will seek to name the dynamics of privilege and unjust, unearned power and also seek to highlight ways in which those who are powerless may be thwarted or lifted up by any number of outer or inner forces. Writers are particularly encouraged to explore silence, indifference, and ignorance as forms of oppression.

This is a chance for people whose voices are free to join together to speak powerfully for the sake of those whose voices have been stolen away. The money raised from the sales of this anthology will do financially what the stories of this anthology aim to do narratively: contribute to a culture of liberation that reveals, names, and destroys all forms of oppression.

All short stories should be between 1,500 and 5,000 words long. All submissions are due to Jax Goss (solarwyrm at gmail dot com), editor at Solarwyrm Press and the editor of this anthology, by May 15, 2014 at 11:59PM Pacific time. The anthology is due to be published on or around May 31, 2014 by Kristen Duvall of Fey Publishing. Any questions about the content of the short stories, the fundraiser for the Not For Sale Campaign, or any other aspect of the anthology may be directed to M. Kate Allen at lifeloveliturgy at gmail dot com or at http://www.lifeloveliturgy.com.

Note: I invite you to share this call for submissions far and wide, whether by e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, or on your own blog. I also personally invite readers of Thealogical Lady to consider submitting a story for this anthology. Thank you.
0 Comments

Eastertide: Day 10

4/29/2014

0 Comments

 
I am struck by this image of St. Catherine of Siena, whose feast Christians celebrate today. She is enormous. She is standing, looking eye to eye with the beholder from slightly above the beholder. She is bold and magnificent and holy all at once.

Women just aren't portrayed this way often in the Christian tradition.

St. Catherine is considered a doctor of the church. On prayer.forwardmovement.org, she is described this way, "
One tends to think of medieval women as silent and passive dwellers in homes and convents. This was far from the case with Catherine of Siena. She exercised great influence in matters of church and state, and hers was one of the keenest minds of her day."

St. Catherine was a Dominican, and Dominicans have a special charism to preach. She took her charism so seriously that she dared to confront Pope Gregory XI--and she left having persuaded him to see things from her view.

I see in this extraordinary woman a model of bold, faithful, wise, and total devotion to God and God's work. She did not cower away behind medieval expectations of what her role was to be in the world. She stood taller and brighter than all her counterparts, female and male alike, not with self-preoccupation but with a keen vision of the vital part she had to play in the bringing about of God's reign--and God's holy work was done through her. She had the humility to say yes to being extraordinary.

In what ways am I called to say yes to being extraordinary? In what ways do I allow my fear to inhibit me from playing my part in bringing about God's reign?
0 Comments

Thursday Night Mystagogy

1/26/2014

0 Comments

 
A dozen or more holy bodies gather in an oval, looking at and past the sacred, central flame to behold the divine spark in one another.

Thursday night invites something a little different at St. Augustine's Episcopal Church.  The community that gathers then has many names. St. Brigid's. ECMASU. Young People and Families. The Thursday Night Community.

There are nearly as many children as adults in the community. The adults are powerful, each in their own way: well-educated, thoughtful, driven, accomplished.  They are students, parents, doctors, teachers, professors, and even brain guys. For countless reasons, these people come together to share words, silence, and nourishment with one another. 

It may be those three things--words, silence, and nourishment--that best characterize this community's fellowship. 

~~~

I was asked by the pastor--without advance warning--to be a minister of the holy bread during the eucharist last Thursday.

Surprising things like that happen. A moment of need arrives, and suddenly someone finds herself being called on to serve. Not because she's uniquely qualified to do so, but because she has offered her presence in that community, and her presence is enough. Anyone who shows up can serve, if they are willing.

Anyone who shows up can serve, if they are willing.

Anyone who shows up can serve, if they are willing.

The Thursday Night Community is a gathering of folks who, more importantly than anything else, choose to show up.  If they're called, and if they're willing, they serve.  Their presence is Christ's presence.  Their willingness is Christ's willingness.  Their service is Christ's service. 

The Thursday night gathering is a rehearsal of the reign of God. 

~~~

Time slowed when I stood up to serve the community last Thursday.  I strained my ears to hear the words that I would speak to the others: Body of Christ, Bread of Heaven.
  As I moved around the oval, I looked at each person's face, and a few raised their eyes to meet mine.  What a shock of communion it is to meet eyes and hold another's gaze from mere inches away, while offering a precious morsel of food!  It is as intimate as dancing.  (My best friend, Betsy, would get that.)

I don't know what it all meant to me, or what it may have meant to the others there, but I can say confidently that last Thursday was game-changing.  Perhaps it was initiation--a sort of baptism by fire.

I just know I won't ever be the same.
0 Comments
    Picture
    M. Kate Allen
    Weaver of words. Spinner of spirals. Midwife of the One whom I call Thea.

    ​Visit Patreon for my guided meditations, recipes inspired by my novels, Q&A video podcasts about my storytelling and creative process, and more!

    Archives

    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    October 2021
    January 2020
    December 2018
    April 2018
    January 2018
    November 2017
    October 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    February 2017
    December 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012

    Categories

    All
    2015
    Abide
    Absence
    Abstinence
    Abuse
    Accountability
    Aching
    Addiction
    Adoption
    Adults
    Advent
    Advent Journeying
    Adventure
    Affirmation
    Agency
    Alive
    Allegiance
    Alleluia
    All Shall Be Well
    Allusions Of Innocence
    Alms Giving
    Amdg
    Amok
    Anastasia
    Angel
    Angelus
    Anger
    Animating
    Anniversary
    Anoint
    Answer
    Anxiety
    Apology
    Apple
    April
    Arizona
    Arms
    Artist
    Ascension Day
    Ash
    Ash Wednesday
    Audience Participation
    Augustinian
    Aurora
    Authenticity
    Author
    Authority
    Autobiography
    Awareness
    Awe
    Baby
    Bad
    Baggage
    Balance
    Balm
    Baptism
    Bear One Another's Burdens
    Beauty
    Beginnings
    Behold
    Belief
    Beloved
    Beltane
    Benedictine
    Benedictine Canons
    Benedict XVI
    Benevolent
    Bible
    Bible Belt
    Birth
    Birthdays
    Bishop
    Bitterness
    Blame
    Blessing
    Blogs
    Blood
    Blossom
    Body
    Body Of Christ
    Boko Haram
    Bold
    Book Of Common Prayer
    Books
    Boundary Crossing
    Bouquet
    Boy Scouts
    Braiding Sweetgrass
    Brave
    Bravery
    Bread
    Bread Of Heaven
    Breath
    Bridge
    Bringbackourgirls
    Broken
    Brother
    Brush
    Call
    Call For Submissions
    Calm
    Camping
    Candlemas
    Candles
    Canvas
    Care
    Caryll Houselander
    Catechesis
    Center Stage
    Chanukah
    Chapbook
    Charity
    Childhood
    Children
    Chocolate
    Choices
    Chrism
    Christ
    Christian
    Christianity
    Christians
    Christmas
    Christology
    Chrysalis
    Church
    Cleaning
    Clergy
    Clericalism
    Cleveland
    Cloth
    Clothing
    Cloud
    Clover
    Cody Unterseher
    College
    Coloring
    Colors
    Community
    Community Of St. Peter
    Compassion
    Competition
    Complacency
    Confidence
    Conflict Resolution
    Connections
    Constitution
    Context
    Control
    Conversion
    Conviction
    Cool
    Corn Dog Mama
    Corporal
    Corporations
    Corruption
    Countenance
    Courage
    Covenant
    Crafty
    Creation
    Creativity
    Crimson
    Critic
    Cross
    Crucifixion
    Cultivation
    Culture
    Cup
    Cursing
    Cyril Of Jerusalem
    Dance
    Dancing
    Darkness
    Dark Night Of The Soul
    Daughters
    Dawn
    Deacon
    Deadly Sins
    Death
    Deception
    Delight
    Depression
    Desert
    Desire
    Despair
    Detachment
    Devotion
    Diamond
    Difficult
    Diocese Of Cleveland
    Dirt
    Dirty Word
    Disappointment
    Discernment
    Disciples
    Disciples Of Christ
    Disobedience
    Distress
    Ditl
    Divine Feminine
    Divinity
    Divorce
    Doll
    Dominican
    Dom Virgil Michel
    Doubt
    Drama
    Dreams
    Dry
    Dust
    Dwell
    Ears
    Earth
    Earth Day
    Easter
    Easter Friday
    Easter Monday
    Easter Saturday
    Easter Thursday
    Easter Tuesday
    Ecstasy
    Editing
    Ego
    Egypt
    Elizabeth
    Elizabeth A Hawksworth
    Embers
    Empty
    Encounter
    Endings
    Endurance
    Enemies
    Energy
    Enneagram
    Enslavement
    Enslaving
    Enveloping
    Epics
    Episcopal Church
    Eucharist
    Evening Prayer
    Event
    Evil
    Excommunication
    Exodus
    Expectation
    Exposed
    Extraordinary
    Eyes
    Face
    Facets
    Failure
    Fair Trade
    Faith
    Familiarity
    Families
    Family
    Famine
    Father
    Fear
    Feast Of St. Joseph
    Feeding
    Feet
    Feminism
    Fertile
    Fever
    Fight
    Fingers
    Fire
    First Communion
    Fish
    Flame
    Flannery O'Connor
    Flourish
    Flow
    Flowers
    Following The Path
    Food
    Footprints
    Footwashing
    Forgiveness
    Fortitude
    Fragrance
    Franciscans
    Freedom
    Friends
    Fruitful
    Full Moon
    Funeral
    Furies
    Future
    Game
    Gardening
    Garment
    Gary Dreslinski
    Gathering
    Gaudete Sunday
    Gaza Strip
    G D
    Generosity
    Generous
    Genius
    Gentleness
    Genuine
    Gift
    Girls
    Girl Scouts
    Glass
    Glass Ceiling
    Glow
    God
    Goddess
    Godmother
    Gold
    Golgotha
    Good
    Good Friday
    Goodness
    Good News
    Gospel
    Gospel According To Kate
    Gospel According To Luke
    Gospel According To Mark
    Grace
    Grandfather
    Grandmother
    Gratitude
    Green
    Grief
    Grin
    Guest Post
    Guilt
    Habit
    Haiku
    Halloween
    Hands
    Happy
    Harm
    Harmony
    Hate
    Hatred
    Healing
    Healing Through The Dark Emotions
    Health Insurance
    Healthy
    Hear
    Heart
    Heartbeats Voices Against Oppression
    Hearth
    Heart Talks With Mother God
    Heat
    Heathen
    Hen
    Henri Nouwen
    Heresy
    Hermeneutic Of Suspicion
    Hiding
    Hild
    Hildegard Of Bingen
    Historic St. Peter Church
    Hobby Lobby
    Holidays
    Holy
    Holy Land
    Holy Orders
    Holy Saturday
    Holy Week
    Homage
    Home
    Homer
    Homily
    Honesty
    Honeycomb
    Hope
    Hospice
    Hospitality
    House
    House Church
    Humanity
    Human Trafficking
    Humiliation
    Humility
    Hunger
    Husband
    Hymn
    Hypocrisy
    Icon
    Icons
    Identity
    IDF
    Idol
    Ignorance
    Illumination
    Images
    Imagine
    Imagining Argentina
    Imminent
    Importuning
    I'm Sorry
    Incarnation
    Incense
    Indifference
    Indulgences
    Injustice
    Insiders
    Insight
    Inspiration
    Instrument
    Integrity
    Intention
    Intercessions
    International Womens Day
    Interview
    Intimacy
    Intuition
    Invitatory
    Iraq
    Islam
    Israel
    Israel Loves Palestine
    Jacob
    Jealousy
    Jerusalem
    Jesuits
    Jesus
    Jewish
    Jews
    John Michael Talbot
    John The Baptist
    Joseph
    Journals
    Journey
    Joy
    Judge
    Judgment
    Julia Cameron
    Julian Of Norwich
    Justice
    Keeley Bruner
    Kenosis
    Key
    Kickstarter
    Kidnapping
    Kindness
    Kiss Of Peace
    Knock On The Door
    Knowing
    Knowledge
    Labor
    Lady
    Lady And The Tramp
    Laetare Sunday
    Lake Pleasant
    La La Loo
    Lamentation
    Lamp
    Last Supper
    Latkes
    Laughter
    Laundry
    Layer
    Leadership
    Leaving
    Lent
    Lent I
    Lent II
    Lent III
    Lent IV
    Lent V
    Letting Go
    LGBTQ
    Liberation
    Liberty
    Lies
    Life
    Lifeblood
    Life Love Liturgy The Book
    Light
    Limbs
    Limits
    Lincoln Logs
    Listening
    Litany
    Liturgical Renewal
    Liturgy
    Liturgy Of The Hours
    Living Lent
    Living Water
    Lj Idol
    Locked Rooms
    Logos
    Loss
    Love
    Lullaby
    Lumen Christi
    Magnificat
    Magnificent
    Majesty
    Man
    Mandala
    Mandate
    Mardi Gras
    Marginalized
    Marigold
    Marriage
    Martyr
    Marvel
    Mary
    Mary Magdalene
    Masterwork
    Matthew Fox
    Matzo Ball Soup
    Maundy Thursday
    Medieval
    Meditation
    Memories
    Memorization
    Memory Stands Still
    Men
    Mend
    Menorah
    Mercy
    Messiah
    Metanoia
    Michelle Lobos And The Labyrinth
    Middle East
    Midwife
    Mighty
    Milk
    Mindfulness
    Ministries
    Ministry
    Miracles
    Miriam
    Miriam Greenspan
    Mirror
    Mission
    Missionary Cenacle Volunteers
    Moist
    Mommy Blog
    Monastic
    Monsoon
    Morning Pages
    Morning Prayer
    Mother
    Mother God
    Motivation
    Mourning
    Movement
    Multi Religious
    Murder
    Murmuring
    Muse
    Music
    Muslims
    Mystagogy
    Mystery
    Names
    NaNoWriMo
    Narrative
    Navy
    Negation
    Neighbor
    News
    New Year
    Nigeria
    Night
    Night Prayer
    No
    Noach Dzmura
    Noonday Prayer
    Novel
    Novice
    Novitiate
    Nrsv
    O Antiphons
    Obedience
    O Emmanuel
    Ohio
    Olives
    Olive Trees
    Ontario
    Oppression
    Orange
    Orange Blossoms
    Order
    Ordination
    Ordo
    O Rex Gentium
    Original Sin
    Orlando
    Other
    Outsiders
    Pagan
    Pain
    Painting
    Palestine
    Pall
    Palm Fronds
    Palm Sunday
    Pancakes
    Parables
    Parents
    Parentwin
    Passion Sunday
    Passive
    Past
    Pathways Of Grace
    Patriarchy
    Pattern
    Peace
    Pelagius
    Penance
    Pentecost
    Pentecost-season
    Perfection
    Pericope
    Persecution
    Personhood
    Pet
    Pharaoh
    Philadelphia 11
    Phoenix
    Pilgrimage
    Planting
    Play
    Poetry
    Polished
    Poor
    Possibilities
    Potty Training
    Power
    Practice
    Prayer
    Prayer Book
    Preaching
    Preferences
    Pregnant
    Prejudice
    Presence
    Present
    President Barack Obama
    Prestige
    Pride
    Priesthood
    Princess Amanda
    Prison
    Privilege
    Profession
    Progressive
    Prophetic
    Prostration
    Protect
    Protest
    Psalm 1
    Psalm 10
    Psalm 100
    Psalm 105
    Psalm 106
    Psalm 107
    Psalm 109
    Psalm 116
    Psalm-130
    Psalm 139
    Psalm 144
    Psalm 23
    Psalm 24
    Psalm 25
    Psalm 26
    Psalm 51
    Psalm 68
    Psalm 78
    Psalm 79
    Psalm 94
    Psalms
    Psalter
    Public Ministry
    Published
    Pulse
    Queen
    Queendom
    Questions
    Quiet
    Radical
    Rain
    Rape
    Rape Culture
    Reading
    Realization
    Rebellion
    Reconciliation
    Red
    Reflection
    Refuge
    Rehearsal
    Rejection
    Rejoice
    Religion
    Religious Extremism
    Religious Formation
    Remember
    Repent
    Repetition
    Resentment
    Resistance
    Resolution
    Rest
    Restless
    Resurrection
    Retreat
    Reveal
    Revenge
    Review
    Rhythm
    Ritual
    Ritualizing
    Ritual Stories
    Roman Catholic
    Roman Catholicism
    Root
    Rose
    Ruach
    Rubrics
    Rule
    Sacred
    Sacred Body
    Sacred Rebels Oracle
    Sacrifice
    Salome
    Salvation
    Sapling
    Savior
    School Shooting
    Scotus
    Scripture
    Seasons Of Love
    Secret
    See
    Seed
    Seek And You Shall Find
    Self Awareness
    Self Sacrifice
    Serenity
    Servant Leader
    Shade
    Shadow
    Shekhinah
    Shelter
    Shiloh Sophia Mccloud
    Short Fiction
    Showing Up
    Sickness
    Sign
    Silence
    Silhouette
    Simplicity
    Sin
    Singing
    Sister
    Sky
    Slave Labor
    Slavery
    Sleep
    Slippery-slope
    Sloth
    Slow
    Slut Shaming
    Softball
    Softness
    Soil
    Song
    Sonoran Desert
    Sons
    Soothe
    Sophia
    Sorrow
    Sound
    Space
    Spark
    Sparkle
    Spider
    Spirit
    Spiritual
    Spiritual Companioning
    Spiritual Direction
    Spirituality
    Spirit Whispers
    Spring
    Spring Equinox
    Stability
    Stars
    St. Augustine's
    Stephen King
    Sticky Ones
    Stories
    Storm
    Strawberry Moon
    Strength
    Struggle
    Stubborn
    Stumbling
    Success
    Succulent
    Suffering
    Suffolk Mystery Authors Festival
    Suicide
    Summer
    Sun
    Sunday
    Sunset
    Support
    Surprise
    Sweetness
    Swimming
    Symbol
    Synchronicity
    Table
    Talking
    Tamara Woodbury
    Taste
    Teaching
    Tears
    Tempe
    Tenacity
    Tenebrae
    Terror
    Thanksgiving
    Thanksgivukah
    Thea
    Thea Koinonia
    Thealogical
    Thealogy
    Theanism
    Thean Psalter
    Thea Press
    Theotokos
    The Reed Of God
    Thesis
    The Way
    Thirst
    Three
    Threshold
    Thunder
    Thurible
    Time
    Tired
    Toilet
    Tomb
    Torn
    Touch
    Tradition
    Tragedy
    Transcendent
    Transform
    Transition
    Translation
    Transparency
    Tree
    Trees
    Triduum
    Troop
    Trope
    Trust
    Truth
    Turning
    Unclean
    Understanding
    Unexpected
    Unholy
    United Church Of Christ
    Unity
    Universe
    Unworthy
    Ups
    Valentine
    Value
    Vase
    Vicar
    Victim
    Victory
    Vigil
    Violet
    Vision
    Vocation
    Voice
    Voices
    Vows
    Vulnerability
    Vulnerable
    Waffles
    Walking
    War
    Water
    Weaving
    Wedding Preparation
    Weed
    Wicked
    Wife
    Wilderness
    Will
    Window
    Wine
    Wisdom
    Witchcraft
    Withdraw
    Woman At The Well
    Womb
    Women
    Wonder
    Word
    Works
    World
    Worry
    Worthy
    Wound
    Wrath
    Wreath
    Writing
    Wrongdoing
    Year Of Prayer
    Yes
    Zechariah

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.