A gracious healing
The God of my childhood embodied justice. Cohesion. A God deeply troubled by iterations of human-wrought injustice. The ground of being riven by spilled blood. My early years rang with the sonorous cadences and exhortations…
author & restorative justice practitioner
The God of my childhood embodied justice. Cohesion. A God deeply troubled by iterations of human-wrought injustice. The ground of being riven by spilled blood. My early years rang with the sonorous cadences and exhortations…
I began this piece over twenty years ago and returned to it in 2014. I re-read it recently before sending it to a cousin, the namesake of my grandmother who is curious about the woman…
Drizzle punctuates the dun sky, appearing far less vernal than April 9th might wish. A cerulean ribbon aloft tender shoots of daffodils might yield more cheer but for Maundy Thursday and Passover combined, the weather…
I have never been a fan of the annual physical. Back in 1993, my partner at the time urged me to see her gynecologist. “You are long overdue an exam,” she scolded, so reluctantly I…