I’ve written here and there, over the past several years, about embracing a theology of place and plumbing deep into the richness and redemption of God in concrete time and place. If you’ve heard me out and about, you’ve likely heard the phrase “In the trenches.” It has been my goal and desire to know God “in the trenches” — in the pockets and relationships and caverns of my own community. I have longed to follow Jesus in incarnation — to live a deep and wide life, right here - in real-time, in this place (Jamestown, NY), and with these people.

Read More

Here’s what I know to be true: 

Joy and grief can co-exist. 

No, not just that. 

Let me try it again… 

Joy and grief necessarily co-exist. 

They are two sides of the same coin, just as love and grief are inextricably linked. 

When I am in the deepest of pits, joy is my great rescuer. 

When I am heavy with sorrow and overwhelmed by the sting of loss, joy is my hallelujah. 

When I am flat on my face, laughter is my best medicine. 

And I’m here to say from the pit this morning :: if you find yourself there too :: joy is not out of the equation for you. The two (seemingly polar opposites) do not stand against one another. Truly, they stand together, in a mutual-support kind of lean-to lattice for your soul. 

Read More

As follow-up to a post on social media, here is the promised grief timeline that Hospice so graciously shared with me (in their words, not my own). I’m hoping that re-sharing this tool helps us all in grace for ourselves and for others.

Read More

There was a poem on the wall of the women’s health office I’ve attended since a teen. Annual visits, pregnancy visits, postpartum visits… and all the things in-between…every time that I’ve waited in that room on that hard little table, in a flimsy gown, restless for the doctor to come in… I’ve read and reread and reread again that poem. 

When I was younger, it seemed a little cliche. In my pregnancies, I’ll admit it felt irrelevant. But as I grew older (and perhaps a little wiser), I warmed up to it. And every time I went into the room again, I’d smile at the familiarity of the old poem about a women aging and embracing herself — and something about it welcomed me - all of me. 

Read More

On Thursday, November 16th at 6:15am we gathered to say a final goodbye to my mom. We gathered in the darkness and the most glorious sunrise rose over us and lit up the lake in brilliant color.

For those of you who love our family, but were unable to travel to be with us, I wanted to share with you a snippet of that beautiful service, crafted so carefully by my mom and I together, and led by Pastors Amy and Adam Rohler who cared for mom with such love and respect in her final days on earth.

This is the program with order of service and my eulogy to follow.

Read More

A month ago, I went on a walk by the water. A long walk by the water. 

As I walked, taking in the birds and the waves and the lakeside trees with their roots so deep, I quieted the noise within me. 

As I walked, I became aware, again, of the One who is always walking beside me. 

Not in the head, kind of way: because logically, I always know. I know till I know that I know. My head is inflated with knowledge. 

I walked until I knew in my heart, I knew in my flesh… until knowledge seeped down into every crack and crevice of my body. 

I walked until I knew, with all of me again: that the Holy Spirit lives in me. 

Read More

I don’t know why grief is the way she is, but what I know is that she’s hole-y. 

No, that’s not a misspell, and yes, I know that it’s a little cheesy. 

But it’s the best way that I’ve got to describe it. 

10 years from the day I first held Lily in my arms, and almost 14 years since my last words with my dad, and I still walk around with two giant holes in my heart. 

Read More

Our bodies have a funny way of teaching us what we need. As I sat down to begin 2023, after a hysterectomy at the end of December, there was only one word on my mind: 

Peace. 

There’s something about going through several surgeries in one year, unprecedented pain and blood loss, and an uphill immune battle that will make you appreciate un-eventfulness. 

Read More

35 crept up on me while I was sleeping away surgery-recovery, but maybe that’s fitting anyways. 

In my prayer journal from my last birthday, #34, I wrote from Roatan, an island off the coast of Honduras, where we were vacationing at the time, a prayer, that as I look back now, I see its permeation in every part of my last year. 

Read More