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What Warriors Wear

I learned to do my makeup from a Texas beauty queen. I sort of knew how to do my makeup, but she taught me to take it to the next level. I learned what colors compliment my skin, how to best accentuate my eyes, and how to pull my hair up so it didn’t get in my face. I learned to look in the mirror and really like myself. I felt powerful and smart and interesting with makeup on. … [Read More]

Posts

The Gift of Charismatic Tears

Here’s the truth—I cry way too easily. Whenever I am emotionally invested in anything, the tears are never far away. This has been true for me as long as I can … [Read More]

Babies

There’s an 11-year-old girl who, whenever she sees me, asks when I’m going to have a baby. After trying my best to conceal my panic and shock, I gently remind her … [Read More]

Posts

Though My Voice Shakes

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: 95% of the time I feel entirely unqualified for the life I'm living. I have an incomplete Political Science/Literature … [Read More]

Money, Gremlins, and the Voices in My Head

Recently I did something I never thought I would do. I walked into the bank and made an appointment to see a financial planner. For some people this is a very … [Read More]

Featured Stories

The Red Couch: Mending the Divides Discussion

How often do we enter conflict in the posture of a hero rather than of vulnerability and curiosity? This question posed, by Jon Huckins and Jer Swigart in Mending the Divides: Creative Love in a Conflicted World is one which cuts to the quick. It sits at … [Read More]

This Is Not “Exceptional” Spirituality

By Kelly Christian | Instagram: @kellychristianwrites In the mornings, I throw my hair into a bun and head towards the kitchen to fuss with the coffee pot. With the sounds of brewing in my waiting ears, I wander around in the morning light, checking to see … [Read More]

Our Nude Bodies: How Do I Protect My Daughter?

“If anyone ever touches your private parts, you hit them,” I told her. I’m sure she wondered why her mama was reversing the usual “do not hit” rule. My daughter’s cheeks are still soft with baby chub, though her body has lengthened. I stare at her … [Read More]

The Injured Body

By: Martha Tatarnic I have spent the better part of my thirties on a runner’s high. In a decade jam-packed with family and work responsibilities, running has become the “Big Marble” that has to go into the jar first in order for all of the other marbles to … [Read More]

Giving Up is Not An Option: What Five Days in the Wilderness Taught Me

Humility, Tenacity and a Huge Roll of Duct Tape This summer my husband, some friends and I went on a five-day backpacking trip Up North. The landscape there is so dramatic and wild, I always feel it necessitates a lot of proper nouns. So when we go north, we … [Read More]

Peace Is Not Dead Yet

Bethlehem isn’t far from Jerusalem. It’s maybe just a 10-minute drive. Our taxi was waved through the checkpoint. As we took the worn asphalt road toward Star Street, Claude asked our driver what he thought of Mahmoud Abbas, the president of the Palestinian … [Read More]

Indigenous Resources (To Subvert Your Columbus Day)

I’ve been savoring Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Walls Kimmerer for the past six weeks and I’m still not close to finishing. In this season of transition and busyness, Kimmerer’s poetry mixed with scientific observation and Indigenous theology is exactly what I … [Read More]

When I’m a Terrible Human

I was such a jerk. I was a jerk to a kind, unsuspecting person who didn’t deserve it in the least. My stomach churned with a particularly shameful cocktail of guilt and regret. It had been a day. Well, I suppose it had been a month. The kids were back … [Read More]

I Stand With the Girls #voiceswiththegirls

[Trigger warning: Mention of human trafficking and sexual violence.] I want to stand with the girls. October 11 is International Day of the Girl. We have joined International Justice Mission, Canada this year to raise awareness around the stories and … [Read More]

This is Not a Frank Peretti Novel

I read my first and only Frank Peretti novel in ninth grade. My sister, Katie, brought it with her when she moved back from the children’s home where she’d lived for the last seven years, along with her collection of pig tchotchkes and a thin copy of the … [Read More]