The painful passage of a family fleeing persecution and the power of Covenant voices
Pastor Carol Shimmin Nordstrom writes in her February devotional of the Covenant Home Altar about overhearing staff at a coffee shop talking about what they were waiting for—finishing college, the season opener for a college sports team, etc. She was surprised […]
Practicing the Easter journey
When faced with the desperation of hurting children
in Mozambique, two couples took action.
Whole communities have changed.
All funerals and memorial services are hard in their own way. Loved ones cry, friends struggle to speak suitable words, and family members hold up the best they can under the weight of sorrow. Every funeral hurts. —But some burn.
I was intrigued about the idea of walking a labyrinth and had made some half-hearted online searches to find one near me. But my first encounter was much different than I had imagined. I was co-facilitating a workshop, and my partner started the day by handing out a sheet of paper with a labyrinth printed on it. We were instructed to trace our finger along the path while listening for how God might speak. To say I was skeptical is an understatement. However, I decided to keep an open mind and give it a try.
Whenever I hear Austin Channing Brown interviewed about her book I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness, one of the first questions she is asked refers to the opening line of her book: “White people can be exhausting.” It’s more than just a provocative first line—it sets the tone of the book. It’s a signal to readers that Brown is not going to dance around the truth in this space.
We are called to be part of the body. We need connection. So how do I navigate the parts of church that feel in opposition to
my nature?
Reality hit me a little more than six years ago when our doctor said, “This is Alzheimer’s.”
