Monthly Archives: May 2020
Are you interested in joining the post calvin community? We have several openings for new writers beginning this August, and we’d love for you to audition!
I hope that washing our hands becomes like an hourly act of service or prayer.
I see a man exhausted by the emotional toll his commitment to winning at all costs has had on his life.
Meaning, it turns out, doesn’t always accompany mortality.
Moral courage and curiosity means listening to yourself: where did this idea come from? Why am I moved to defend it?
But there was Spanish to learn.
The article is from the Washington Post. Tom Hanks played the Washington Post in a movie, which means it’s credible.
I have named our pop-up restaurant Le Cabine. This restaurant has everything: grammatical inaccuracy, two cats hanging around at all times, and the world’s first ever Michelin Moon.
Now that so much of my social interaction is happening on emoji’s home turf, I’ve started to branch out in the way I use them.
It’s one thing, after all, to recognize that people can be dupes. It’s quite another to believe that they must be.
I’d known when Josh and I started dating that I might have to leave. But staying was within our grasp, and it feels nice to know what your future is going to look like.
Our choices will define us. Others will too. And the mark we leave will not meet any of our expectations.
When you work with children’s books, cats are inescapable.
You get them their own nuggets one time and they start to expect things.
It’s just that in the year of our virus 2020, I simply cannot stop watching the Bon Appetit YouTube channel.
The way of Jesus is without a doubt slow and unhurried, an easy yoke.
The world of Twitter may not seek to inspire us or create situational comedy anymore, but it’s still a place occupied by people—less definable, but no less real.
Like wearing florals, writing about new life for spring is groundbreaking.
I pray, I type, I read, I write more ands.
I care a lot about things like that. I want people to remember good things about me.
Oftentimes when I go looking for spiritual poetry outside of Mary Oliver, I can’t find anything beyond super sanitized Christian verses.
Today, I cooked to affirm my belonging.
At that moment, Cline walked up and said, in his miraculously gentle drawl, “You can take her home if you want to.”
I’m angry that saying “Don’t tell me what to do” is more American than saying “Tell me how to help.”
I feel caught up in a collective urge to tend things.