Latest

Raising Good Guys and Bad Guys

By Shannon Williams | Instagram: shannon_scribbles The three people in my house under the age of five have been obsessed with the idea of good guys and bad guys lately. “I’m Batman!” Caden, my four-year-old son, proclaims as he runs around in his blanket cape. “And Robin!” the two-year-old replies, right behind him. “Let’s get the bad guys!” they cry in … [Read More]

Posts

It is My Place to Believe in the Church

I grew up in the church. I spent Sunday upon Sunday sitting in the first third of the pews, staring up at the stained glass tree of life, while dutifully taking … [Read More]

On the Other Side of this Dusty Wardrobe

My children blur fantasy and reality. Right now, they are yipping from the other room, pretending they’re puppies. Later, they’ll be ninjas, superheroes, or bunnies. … [Read More]

Posts

Well-Behaved Women Won’t Change the World

After writing for SheLoves magazine for eight straight years, this is my last regular post. It has truly been a joy to be part of this amazing organization of … [Read More]

There Were Planners in the Crowd

By Dr. Joy A. Howard I am a planner. I know the where and the when and the how. I know who needs to show up and who needs a ride. I pack first aid kits and I am … [Read More]

Featured Stories

The Red Couch: Love Undocumented Introduction

Immigration is a red-hot iron poker in the politics of our day. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the facts, lies, stories, and media. A year ago my Facebook feed was crowded with pictures of children in cages. Families being ripped apart at the border. I … [Read More]

For the Daughters of Mothers

By Lisa Southard My mom was not perfect by any means. In fact, many times she drove me crazy, but today, I would give anything for her to be dancing on my last damn nerve just one more time. My mom was my best friend, and she died. I fully realize not … [Read More]

My Stones of Remembrance

For someone with a love of simplicity and order, I own an excessive amount of trinkets. A few weeks before our departure from South Asia, I packed some of them in a suitcase to send back with a friend returning to the United States. I lovingly wrapped the … [Read More]

Grief is a Language Shared by All

By Bethany Everson Na | Twitter: @BethanyNa007 My shoes were still caked in mud from the cemetery as I walked to meet my best friend. Shards of blue sky were attempting to pierce the heavy drapery of clouds, and a few raindrops fell on my eyelashes. Or were … [Read More]

I Remember Her as a Young Miriam

This past weekend, we lost a sister. Rachel Held Evans was a woman of valor. My thoughts went to Exodus—as they often do these days. // A woman stands near the reeds, holding a baby boy. She lives on the right side of the Nile, under Pharaoh’s roof and … [Read More]

Dear Rachel, You Named Us Women of Valor

Rachel Held Evans named us.  In 2012, when The Year Of Biblical Womanhood was published, there was one particular gift in there that still echoes in my heart. Rachel Held Evans had found a blessing—not just for Jewish women on a Friday night, but for all … [Read More]

Grief: Living with Unanswerable Questions

by Tabitha Terlunen [Trigger warning: Loss of a child] I have both witnessed and been the recipient of miracles. I have felt God catch me when I stepped out onto the churning waters of faith. I believe in miracles, I know the theology, I can grasp the … [Read More]

My Sacred Place Was a Palo Verde Tree

When I was twelve, my sacred places were a palo verde tree with boards nailed to it and a circle of mesquite trees that, in a land barren of shade, formed a shadowy grove. Growing up in Tucson, my life dried up. My family descended into chaos, my sense of … [Read More]

When I Get to Have the Good Thing

We moved last month. I’ve spent the past few weeks sorting through things, packing some and donating or dumping others. I tried to stay focused and not get pulled into the little whirlpools of nostalgia lurking at the backs of drawers and cupboards. Of all the … [Read More]

Dear Sweet Girl, For You, Justice Looks Like Healing

Dear Sweet Girl, Hear me. As I hold your freckled face between the palms of my hands, I believe you. You are wearing the navy blue shoes your dad bought for you last year. Before. Before everything changed. Before your wrists were pressed into the cold … [Read More]