When A Cross-Dresser Meets An Off-Key Kumbayah

I quit all service-related activities this past summer when I burned out. And I haven't been back at them since. But the thing is, when you go too long with your heart-values being unrequited, something different---but equally damaging---happens: your heart starts to choke on your own values because they just keep sitting there, stacking up inside you. Until they come so high you can nearly taste them crawling inch by inch up the back of your throat, suffocating you for their need to be [ read more... ]

Wherein Parenting Takes An Unorthodox Turn

It was a Wednesday and I stopped and dropped in the middle of putting clean sheets on my bed because the weight of my mundane world crashed in a heap upon my shoulders and the tonnage of it propelled a forward bend, palms pressed open against the mattress, back arched like a bow and the heaviness of my head hanging careless between my shoulder blades. I told my Father that I was certain that He had made a mistake and that surely having three boys AND homeschooling them . . . plus this, that and the [ read more... ]

What I’m Hungry For

Will you hear what I am hungry for? How I can eat moments like my first and last and only meal? Moments. Moments of stillness and quiet, with just enough length to take an extra breath, speak a gentle "I'm here, Abba" and be mindful that behind the air I inhale is another galaxy of meaning and mystery - it's heaven waiting in the wings for the sprinkling of God-children spread all over the earth to bring a piece of the celestial into earth-time. (Try it and see . . . With just one beautiful, [ read more... ]

Why I’m Going Back To Church

"If I obey Jesus Christ in the seemingly random circumstances of life, they become pinholes through which I see the face of God." ~Oswald Chambers Hi. My name is Erika Lynn Morrison. I have been intentionally engaged with the activity and developement of a post-congregational Christian community for the last 13 years of my life and I say it to you like a confession lest I forget that this expression was the bosom at which my faith nursed - where the Spirit cradled my transformation through daylight [ read more... ]

Roger And Our Dirty Skin

I would love to show you a photo of old Roger so you could see what I see: that he's just the most beautiful. His leather-like face is thickly etched with time-lines, his hair is unhygienic, lousy . . . his skin wears pockmarks and blackheads like some woman wear pearls and polka dots. He doesn't have any top teeth that I can see beyond his overgrown mustache and whew! if he doesn't smell like an unwashed decade. He wears baggy velour track pants, three jackets, scars across his heart and no [ read more... ]