Part of being in community is noticing what's needed. Part of being in community is doing what is necessary but unclaimed.

One day, I’ll have to care for my mother as she once cared for me. I’m not ready to handle the truth that our relationship must change.

What once seemed certain is now unpredictable, even dangerous.

Over the years, I’ve built up an impressive array of tools for meetings: I-statements, being assertive, and all of that stuff. What I could improve on, though, is knowing when to switch tools.

The most life-giving coping strategy—for me—is to attune to a voice calmer and wiser than mine, and allow that seeking to be its own expression of faith.

The assumption that all people remember the same set of events, or enjoy the same set of things, puts enormous burdens of assimilation onto members of marginalized communities.

It often feels like we’re shouting into the void. It was a gift to be reminded that sometimes someone is listening.

The drag show was heaven broken open, given to us for the evening. Everything for a little while was perfect—and I saw the face of my God.

I miss the way things were, and I know they’ll never really be the same.

Our conversations about the history of our country—the actions of our ancestors—can be made new and relevant and understandable. We can and must have these conversations.