As you know if you’ve visited me here before, I come from a very conservative Mennonite background. I grew up on the Plains. My great-grandfather arrived on the prairie as

Two things today. I think perhaps the saddest word in any language is “almost.” It occurred to me as I was reading the story of Paul’s trial before the king,

After decades of silence, it has come. Like a tsunami, revelations of longstanding sexual abuse within the Amish and Mennonite circles have finally “made land,” and the ground, it seems,

I grew up in a conservative, Mennonite tradition. Acapella hymns on hard, wooden benches. Church, three times a week. A fortnight of Bible School in the summer (a true delight),

It’s a searing July day. We’ve fled to the beach to escape the heat, and at water’s edge, there he is. A man is lying in the froth and surf.What?

In my culture of origin, a storm is raging. Decades of silence have been broken with a thunderous roar. What was once hidden in the dark is coming to light.

It comes to me now as the clouds above leak their tears. We’re waterlogged…again. The only thing we’re missing is Noah, his ark, and a pair of monkeys. Wait. Never

In the row before me, a father, a mother, and three brown-haired girls. There’s a holy hush as the pastor gives the final prayer. Other heads are bowed, eyes are

FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBlogger When we complain about our bodies, it’s the clay, whining to the Potter. At some point in my motherhood, all four of my sons have come home clutching precious,

It is only after careful deliberation that I have decided to offer these thoughts. I know that I am speaking plainly today, that it will generate some discomfort, and that