Several months ago, I was invited to speak at Lifest, a Christian festival in Wisconsin with more than 100 musicians and 50 speakers that
I've become used to seeing images of protests on the news recently.
Utopia. It is the place that is no place. It is the reality that does not yet exist. It is the political economy that has no politics or economics. Yet. A utopian vision is important.
She is my mother. She is my aunt. She is my next door neighbor. I recognize her familiar gait; the quick-paced step. Most importantly, I recognize the invisible burden she carries.
In this simple statement from his poem Mending Wall, modern American poet Robert Frost voices the deep concern with how human fear leads to building walls that separate us from others.
I thought Glenn Beck must have moved on to other things, but the other night, he went back to his attack on social justice churches. This time the issue was climate change.
At eight months pregnant, I had a dream my new baby boy was born. He came out with pale white skin, blue eyes, and long, pin-straight red hair. He didn't look like he belonged to me at all.