Even when I do speak in accented Spanish, Hondurans often assume I’m from a Honduran afro-indigenous community.
This October sabbatical, as I am calling it, is not what I would have chosen.
As this year ends, so does the decade, and summarizers and list-makers are compelled by narratives and retrospectives, trying to explain away what’s changed.
Satisficing doesn’t mean you lack standards. It just means you’re realistic about those standards.
We may not use the same words—God, Jesus, Christ, Brahman, Light, Love?—but language could never be truly sufficient to describe the indescribable anyway.
When my parents brought up college during my junior year of high school, I delivered this zinger: “What’s more important, college or God?”
I’ve been trying to detach from the darkness: the points I feel I failed, times of shame, times of fear.
Just the smile of someone who is in on the secret.
The first thing you should know about cranes is that they don’t like to be ignored.
No one actually protests my ordination or calling; no one says I do not belong. This isn’t the case for some women in certain denominational spaces.