Our kids are watching us in this moment. Today is Epiphany—January 6—the day the church proclaims that God pulls back the curtain. Epiphany is about revelation: light breaking through, truth made visible, God showing up in places that are shadowed, dreary, and hate-filled. It is the season when we dare to say that light still shines, even when the world feels dangerous and unclear. But Epiphany has always carried tension. Entangled in that story of starlight and revelation is

The new year always arrives with a kind of quiet insistence. It doesn’t knock loudly like a holiday or demand attention the way a birthday does. It simply shows up, standing there in the doorway of our lives, asking us to notice what has been carried forward and what might be ready to be folded differently. For me, this noticing often begins in the most ordinary of places: the laundry room. Laundry has a way of marking time. Loads come and go with the rhythm of weeks and seas

Every so often I hear — explicitly or implicitly — that women are “opting out,” “slowing down,” or somehow losing ambition, especially when it comes to their jobs. As if we all just collectively decided one day that striving was overrated and naps were the new corner office. Across workplaces and ministry contexts, women continue to shoulder disproportionate burdens, contributing extraordinary labor that too often goes unseen and unrewarded. A recent Women in the Workplace re

There is a list every December. It’s long, ambitious, and full of good intentions. It holds the things that should  happen, the things that would make Christmas feel just right if I could only check every box. And every year, somewhere between Advent hope and Christmas Eve exhaustion, I am reminded that not everything on the list is meant to be finished. The essentials get done. Most of the teacher gifts did get done, and that feels like a small miracle in itself. Worship is

Families waiting to visit with the one and only Santa Clause at Silverton UMC. Advent always begins with waiting, but I’m not sure I ever realize how much waiting we actually do this time of year until we’re deep into it. For our family, these early days of Advent in our family have been full—full of the usual traditions, the yearly rhythms we’ve come to love, the little markers that tell us Christmas is on its way. We’ve been selling Christmas trees at my son’s school tree f

Every now and then, a metaphor pops into my brain that’s just too good to ignore. I love cooking and baking competitions. Lately I’ve been watching a lot of Chopped and The Great British Bake off. Chopped is a frantic Food Network show where chefs are handed a mystery basket of ingredients. As I was watching Chopped the other day,  I thought: Oh my goodness… this is also pastoring. To be honest, for a fleeting moment, I thought this metaphor applied during COVID pastoring too

It’s officially cookie-baking season—my favorite time of year to fill the house with butter, sugar, chocolate, citrus, and joy. One of my clearest childhood memories is coming home from school after my mom had spent the entire day baking. I’d walk through the door and the whole house smelled like sugar, butter, vanilla, and love. I’d sit at the little family room table—our spot—and tell her about my day. It wasn’t fancy, but it was holy. A small place where I felt known and s