Mirrors lie, Amor Towles wrote in A Gentleman in Moscow.  I had to grab a pen and write the quote in my journal because it rang true, because I had heard those lies for most of my life.  I remember it now, away from home, as I walk through a glassy, windowed hallway and catch […]

When Riley cries, she turns red, as though her whole body must make up for any failure to express herself clearly in words. This morning as we walk to the car, her eyes, which were already rimmed an angry color, look pink from the press of her palms as she rubs away her tears. The […]

The most effective training is hard. That’s what I tell myself as, on the exhale, I blow away the stray hairs that have slipped from my ponytail. Every other morning, I groan through a series of exercises meant to strengthen my core, which feels important to me as more and more natural “fairy hair” appears […]

Spiritual formation is renovation of the soul. That’s what I’m thinking as I empty the drawers of an old desk into a tote, as I shake my head over the accumulation of the years. In the deepest drawer, I find a knot of cords, and I smile, thinking this is how my thoughts would look […]

“I think I know you,” I say, fumbling only a little because I don’t know if she’ll remember me at first, because the last time I saw her, we stood in worship singing blessings over each other. It was dark; we were masked, but I recognized her that night even though I didn’t know her […]

“So for some reason, this verse made me think of you,” my friend says, flicking her finger back and forth on the edge of an index card as we settle onto her porch beneath warm party lights glowing in the cloudy afternoon and ferns gently swaying. I cradle the coffee cup in my hands and […]

My friend gives me the cross as a gift, just lays it in my palm, and it isn’t until that filling, the cool, solid weight of olive wood resting against my skin, that I realize how empty-handed I’ve been. “I found these online,” she says, giving one to another friend too, because together, we make […]

The moment I walk in the door, all road-weary and distracted and wondering how it is that pilgrims who don’t have to walk everywhere still come home feeling sore and dusty, I hear Riley praying. Her voice sounds clear, an unbound sound traveling the hallway and down the stairs. As I mounted the steps and […]

As soon as Kevin leaves the room, Riley slips through the open door and flops on the sofa beside me, hairbrush in one hand, all that hair still dark wet and snarled, swinging against her back and scattering droplets. Immediately I notice her red-rimmed eyes, but choose not to say anything at first, carefully sliding […]

I don’t know her name–not the sound of her voice, not even the shape of her smile. As it is these days, because of the mask she wears, her eyes—dark and determined and locked on mine–are all I know of her, those eyes and that hair, curling dark around her head in short, wild corkscrews. […]