One of the deep joys of ministry is presiding at the communion table, breaking bread and sharing the cup with all of God’s people.
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On an ideal pandemic day, my work scene happens from the couch with my laptop on a pillow, our puppy curled against my hip, and my arm snuggling our 4-year-old as Dinosaur Train blares in the background.
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While I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I love to sing praises to God wherever I am, especially with the people of God. Methodists are a singing people
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Today is Juneteenth, the annual holiday honoring Black freedom and resistance on the day the last slaves learned of emancipation in 1865.
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I started reading the Bible after lying about it. In middle school, I went on a mission trip with friends. At the end of a long day, my friend Julia cracked open the Good Book.
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When our daughter was an infant, I loved watching her sleep. I would cradle her in my arms and sense the rhythm of each little breath filling her body. She was a miracle to behold, and each tiny inhale and exhale was filled with the potential of who she would become.
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I don’t wear my dressy watch much these days. When I put it on for church, I noticed the time was just a few minutes slower than it should have been. It’s no wonder. Time has been moving strangely in this pandemic.
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A couple of weeks ago, we bought some beautiful vegetable plants through the online Bloomington Farmers’ Market, which we highly recommend.
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