Pledging allegiance
I stand up behind the podium. I am addressing a meeting of the Rotary Club of Wake Forest, North Carolina, in the back room of a local cafeteria. The people in front of me are mostly white. They sit along the sides of long rectangular tables placed in cramped rows, their faces washed out by…
The Slaughter of Innocence
I was not there for the Slaughter of the Innocents. I was with the rest of the cast in the lounge that served as a green room—sitting on a comfy chair or on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. Doing homework, studying for exams. Chatting, singing Bob Dylan or Joni…
Upended Expectations
(for the beginning of the Epiphany season) After Jesus’ birth—which happened in Bethlehem of Judea, during the reign of Herod—astrologers from the East arrived in Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the newborn ruler of the Jews? We observed his star at its rising and have come to pay homage.”…. The star which they had observed…
Making something
What do you do when the world is burning. When you surface from uneasy dreams to find yourself in a house engulfed in flames, room gorged with smoke and fire alarm broken. When calls to your elected representatives–all Republicans, or not–are met with stock replies. When the words of your op-ed turn to ashes in…
Fiddling while Rome burns
OK, OK. So it wasn’t a fiddle that Nero played while the city of Rome went up in flames. It may have been a lyre, or a kithara, but definitely not a fiddle. The violin had yet to be invented. Nero was reportedly in nearby Antium when the fire broke out. He rushed to Rome and…
The gift of silence
How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given.(“O Little Town of Bethlehem,” Phillips Brooks) I am stopped cold, in mid-sentence. At the top of my laptop screen a small black rectangle reads: Trying to connect…. Reconnecting…. I sit and wait to be reconnected with the personal hotspot on my iPhone. Wait for inspiration to…
Wondering and Wandering
December. Time of gathering darkness into which will be carried, bravely, the promise of light. Well, bravely—or not, as the case may be. The light will nevertheless return. I wonder as I wander It has to have been a woman who dreamed the words of the Appalachian folk carol into being. Walking outside under a…
What’s Love Got to Do with It?
“For a dollar,” the White man said to me, “I’ll testify that he was assaulting you.” My husband William was walking me into the public library where I frequently go to write. Newlyweds in our early 70s, we walked hand-in-hand as the automatic doors opened to let us in. We always walk hand-in-hand, because —…
The story we were told
In southeastern Virginia, history was never far away. At least, history as told by Whiteness. When I was growing up in southeastern Virginia, history was never far away. At least, history as told by Whiteness. The schools in both Norfolk and Richmond took us on regular field trips to Jamestown, Yorktown, and Williamsburg. I especially…
The Edge of All the Light You Have
I wish I could find a photo of the poster. Or a reprint. My father hung it on the wall of his church study in the 1970s. The left half was goldenrod yellow, the right half was pitch black. A jagged line down the center of the poster divided them. It read: Faith means walking…
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holy discomfort: Love letters from a reluctant Christian 