Washing Feet

My daughter’s eyes are wide as she enters the sanctuary. This place, so familiar to her, is incongruent at night in its somber hush. With the exception of a tiny baby wrapped securely on his mother’s back in a sling, she is the youngest person here. We slide into our...

Ferdinand and the Practice of Nonviolence

I first learned about nonviolence from a bull. My childhood copy of Ferdinand was beautiful—the red cover, the flowers, even the lettering. I remember very clearly the way the light and dark shading of the font played together in perfect harmony in the title on the...

Advent Waiting

Back and forth we dance: Wait. No. Wait. No. Wait. When the dishes are done or the sneaker is tied or I’ve spelled “antidisestablishmentarianism” yet again (that can’t really be one of their spelling words, right? Someone is pulling my leg?) I ask her what she wants...

Wonder: When Difference is Written on Your Face

Watching their son walk toward the school building on his first day, Auggie’s parents (played by Julia Roberts and Owen Wilson) hold on to each other, emotions writ large on their faces. Then his mother prays: “Dear God, please make them be nice to him.” I don’t know...

Praying for DREAMers

When we finished praying, my eight-year-old blurted out, “Can I eat my card?” I was trying to decide if not eating the prayer card was going to be my hill to die on, when he paused, green card halfway to his open mouth. “Actually, I don’t want to eat this,” he said....