My granddaddy on my father’s side had klan ties. He wasn’t blood related, my dad never knew his real father, and somehow that makes me feel better, as if blood has anything to do with the way we’re blinded by hate and lies and all the separating we do when we make people less than or other. I’ve come to know that blood is the only thing that sets us free but that’s another story. Needless to say, I never really knew him. My dad was born into the dirty south in the 1950s. He was threadbare …
Books and the Poverty of Soul
I've been thinking about books a lot lately. Maybe it's because I'm writing my own and as the chapters take shape, I think of what this story will become. I think of the hopes I have for it in the world. My mother is a book lover and I am every bit her daughter. I am also my father's girl and he was a storyteller all of his days, and in those ways of nature and nurture, writing came as naturally as turning a page or gathering a small group to listen to a tale. I was writing before I …
Peace and Hope on this Beautiful Tragic Easter
I wrote this status update on my Facebook page this morning but I thought I'd share it here too for those of you who don't follow me there. I didn't plan to blog today and these are just some random thoughts for those living in the tension of today and everyday. I missed church this Easter morning because my back is still a mess and there's no way I could sit for that long. My family went on without me. Later, Josh will help me to the car and I'll see if I can tolerate the 5 minute …
