We are all prodigal sons, children of many ages who have failed our parents, our loved ones, our own expectations of how we thought we would turn out. We all have fallen short of who we long to be. We are not as dependable or loving or successful or witty as we would like. Still, we yearn to run into loving arms. We ache to be enfolded in a spiritual community that recognizes that even in our brokenness we are holy. Can we be that community for each other? Can we enfold other people in the way we long to be enfolded?

an excerpt from Stubborn Grace: Faith, Mental Illness, and Demanding a Blessing