Fumbling Toward Grace

On Friday, a child died. She was mine. She was yours. She had a long brown ponytail and large brown eyes. She had just turned 7, the same age as theinnocent girl sleeping in my upstairs bedroom. Her name was Jakelin. She was created from the clay of a Guatemalan landscape and died in an … More Advent Without Jakelin

On Friday, a child died. She was mine. She was yours. She had a long brown ponytail and large brown eyes. She had just turned 7, the same age as the innocent girl sleeping in my upstairs bedroom. Her name was Jakelin. She was created from the clay of a Guatemalan landscape and died in … More Advent Without Jakelin

On Friday, a child died. She was mine. She was yours. She had a long brown ponytail and large brown eyes. She had just turned 7, the same age as the innocent girl sleeping in my upstairs bedroom. Her name was Jakelin. She was created from the clay of a Guatemalan landscape and died in … More Advent Without Jakelin

When boys will be boys, then girls will be garbage. I don’t remember much from the assault, but I do remember the shame. The knot which began in the pit of my stomach, tightening the noose of shame around me until I could hardly breathe. It happened, as nearly all sexual assaults do, in a … More When Girls Will Be Garbage

When boys will be boys, then girls will be garbage. I don’t remember much from the assault, but I do remember the shame. The knot which began in the pit of my stomach, tightening the noose of shame around me until I could hardly breathe. It happened, as nearly all sexual assaults do, in a … More When Will Boys Be Men?

There’s this beautiful and profound quote from Mr. Rogers – though really, every word that man uttered was beautiful – where he encourages people in difficult situations when it seems like humanity has hit the depths of its capacity to inflict pain, to pause and look around for “the helpers”. “When I was a boy … More Look for the Helpers