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[caption id="attachment_351" align="aligncenter" width="500"] copyright J.J.Kercher Photography, taken in Bujumbura, Burundi.[/caption] These women, these saints, they’ve given us so much over the years. Something is quite right about setting aside time to remember them, a day to celebrate their legacies of faith. I remember when she told me ‘we have a point of view, only God has view.’ I recall the words about how faith infuses art, poetry giving way to prayer, writing as sacrament. She showed me icons could…

I’m adopted. I adopted my two children. There – all my cards on the table. Now let me share the quickest way to undermine that sacrament which bookends my experience of family – say it’s not natural. I’ve heard it more than once, but read it more often now that blogs abound and adoption talk moves like a spark through dry brush. Adoption is harder because it’s not natural, so be patient through the process – that’s what they say.…

We need discussions & dialogue because there are important matters at hand to talk about. We need to converse & connect, to listen & learn together because we can’t get there on our own. So we need people with good character, good intellect and good humor to host us. We need Rachel. We need people who understand the Bible as story and structure, not straightjacket. We need people who can speak with candor, yet civility. We need people who can…

Mark tells of a woman who comes to Simon the Leper’s house one night, knowing Jesus was dining inside. She pours costly perfume over His head out of a small alabaster jar. Jesus discerns her prophetic gesture. He honors her. But those surrounding him at the table, disciples and Pharisees alike, couldn’t get past the price tag on the alabaster jar. They did the math – that perfume if converted into denarii could weigh down their collective purse. And think…

Isles of orange and black everywhere, black cats crossing my field of vision and plastic caldrons brewing imagined worlds of fear. Surely ghoulish creatures prowl the moonlit streets of our neighborhoods this week, so beware. Except that I’m haunted by holiness more often than not (and more than anything else). A plunge in the pit of my stomach, chills racing up my spine, a subtle shudder alert me to a Presence unseen but sensed. I catch myself craning over my…

Just a few hours at the park, that was my impromptu idea. The Arizona heat broke to a balmy 71 degrees and I couldn’t resist the urge to get the kids outside for long stretches of pathways to explore on their twin scooters. I grabbed two water bottles, some raisins (and scooters, obviously) and we were out the door. After two hours of racing, swerving and gliding in the sunlight, I knew it was about time to leave. Other sure…

Amid the darkest part of the night his feet skate across the cold tile floor till he is standing, teetering and breathless, by my bed. “Mama, I had a bad dream.” Even through the blackness I can see his eyes glazed with fear and lingering tendrils of sleep. I sit up in bed. I take his hand in mine, look him in the eye and invite him to take a deep breath with me. He always does. He comes to…

From the view above the lake (I imagine Lake Tanganyika ringed by Burundi and Congo) all appears serene. I bob in the water gently, my slow graying hair pulled into a ponytail stub. I look like an average middle-age woman taking a Saturday swim while her husband plays with the kids on the sandy shore dotted with acacia trees. But underneath my legs thrash wildly, stirring trouble and frightening fish. I kick every which direction, wrestling water, foot flinging through…

[caption id="attachment_278" align="alignleft" width="500"] taken in Bubanza, Burundi by Tina Francis[/caption]                     I used to say never a lot. A wise friend counseled me, in all seriousness and with a great deal of concern, to stop adding things to my list of never. She was on to something as all prophets are... things are not what they seem. I will never go to Africa. Now I have tore through two passports, extra pages in each,…

Jesus is bicultural. He is indigenous to heaven, to eternity, to the divine abode. Since before the beginning He circulated in divine three-ness entirely at home amid the great expanse. Then He took on flesh becoming human, donning another way to be in the world; new body, new culture. He had skin color, a local accent and the history of the Jewish people flowing through His veins. Jesus hosted two cultures within one person.  He lived as God and man,…