Jesus chose something so incredibly mundane, so undeniably human, something each of us needs just to survive as the sacred, and yet simple sign of our remembrance of him. Of all the things that could have chosen to symbolize his sacrifice, our relationship, the family of God, how we live in the world, he chose bread and wine.

When do you speak up and when do you stay silent? What is the cost of keeping your thoughts, emotions, desires, disagreements, and experiences to yourself? How do you get the courage to share more of yourself with the world?

All the stories I read and wrote then resonate with me even more now because I know they come from a longing in my soul for the Kingdom of God. A world that is not yet but is coming.

These women have taught me, nurtured me, changed me… I see myself in them. And in them I see parts of humanity that I wish to embody.  

By some miracle, our journeys with Jesus intersected often on the same road, and I learned more from you than I can express. I am grateful that because of what you passed down to me through genes and time, someday I can hope to be a sliver of who you are. And even now, I am who I am because of you. 

There is a prideful, insecure part of my humanity that wants to believe that what I see and believe and think now is completely TRUE and what I will ALWAYS believe. But that is just not the nature of being a human trying to wrap one’s brain and heart around the divine.

Knowing every moment of my impatient humanity - Jesus is patient with me. And so I believe that God is building something with the precious currency of our time together.

I've walked, sometimes crawled, through dark days the last few years. Grief, depression, anxiety, faith crises, relational turmoil, and innumerable other challenges symptomatic of just being a person on this planet. But I have always returned to Peter's question: "Where else would I go, Jesus? You have the words of life."