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... ]

I Am My Children’s Priest(ess)

It was the first thing I did when we started our at-home learning this year, I grabbed their three fledgling hearts and circled them with me on the living room rug and then my mama-body just had all these exhort-emotions lifting up from the soul and I spoke them strong and softly fierce-like over their growing heads---purposed Spirit-words that I don't even exactly remember now, but truly carried the essence and flavor of inspiring these God-sons into becoming more of who they are. Next to all [ read more... ]

Making Mama {and Papa} Art

My mama, she has stacks and stacks of them in her attic---scribed memories from our childhood. "Daily Communicators" we called them during our growing-up days. I remember, she would sit there at her desk during the shadow-hours when her home-world was dark and quiet and she would burn that candle low and bend her heart even lower as she poured love-words and holy-verse words and made funnies in the spiral notebooks with each of our names on them. She was sacrificial-love in flesh-form and the Spirit [ read more... ]