an Easter[tide] post.


This is when we glory, when we shout our ALLELUIAS.

This is when we turn the lilt of our voices up to cry out,

Christos anesti! Alithos anesti!


This is when we raise our glasses to the already-and-not-yet

of all the sad things becoming untrue—

the curtain torn now,

the anticipation of the life to come where

every moment shall be a toast:

we will sing with angels and archangels

and with all the company of heaven

Holy, Holy, Holy, LORD…

This is the True essence of which Lent shadowed.

This is when it is right to, yes, force the joy for 50 days,

just as we forced ourselves to sit

in silence and stillness and hunger,

to trudge in the wilderness and dark doubt.

Now we dance and dance and dance

until we are almost dizzy  with our shouts:


[even {especially} If it is a cold and broken one, practice

saying the alleluia to yourself, to people you trust

and maybe even those who don’t know you.

yes, there are wounds and burial cloths, but

this is where we hobble first steps again, love,

out of our tombs, this is where we invite our

neighbors to touch our healing scars.

this might be when it matters most, counts most

in the currency of grace—when our hearts are still

out in the cold dark of the night: alleluia. alleluia.]

This is when we Practice Resurrection most of all.

This is when we wear bright lipstick like grace and

bake to give away out of our abundant hearts.

This is where the cross is traded for an empty tomb.

This, when a woman—let us feel the gasp—is the first

to cry out Resurrection and we find the new world

of the Risen Lord to be the upside-down-rightside-up

grace of the Kingdom beginning to be beginning,

fulfilled in the life to come. Already and not yet.

This is where we walk with God in the Garden again,

now and forever, Amen. This is it—

Christ has died.

Christ is risen.

[He is risen indeed!]

Christ will come again.


what i’ve learned, about voice.

I have a damn loud voice.

Like, real loud yo. I know, it might be hard to tell around here because of poetics and stories woven, but that’s the truth.

I am one of the loud girls, and that’s one of the reasons why I came to this three-day conversation about feminism. It was one of the stirring things because, well, a lot of the other things in this conversation was handed down to me without my realizing it.

I’ve been criticized for being loud my whole life and it’s not just about using my inside voice. It was about the category of who I am supposed to be wrapped up in how I am supposed to sound and what I am supposed to say. It was often about what was too intimidating or not mysterious enough for men. Sometimes it still is.

But, I kept laughing loud and cracking wise and sitting in the parlor instead of hiding in the kitchen. I still do.

Because though I have cried my tears over the years about being too loud and too much, I was never silenced. By my environment and my own stubbornness, I was given volume that’s more than about mere sound and I think that is a kind of privilege, too.

I guess my heart came into #femfest for the loud ones– the ones like me who, just by being, are too much to handle, even if it’s loud by just being different, by resisting gender stereotypes.

But now I’m thinking more and more about the stifled.

Over the past two days, I have read so many stories (still reading!) from those who felt silenced and unheard, and I’ve been blown away.

And I read this from J.R. Goudeau about her Burmese refugee friends:

They have voices. They have a lot to say. They have opinions and values and desires and dreams. And I can’t begin to fathom what those are.

I have no more right to speak for them than anyone has a right to speak for me.

And this from Esther Emery about fixing:

Don’t let me silence you by speaking your story for you. Let me make room for you to tell your own.

And many others who kept weaving voice in because it’s so important in a conversation about feminism.

Because so much of patriarchy is about who has the mic.

And who doesn’t.

It’s such an obvious thing, but so shocking to me all the same.

It makes this bigmouth want to listen, makes her hope she’s not talking over anyone who needs to be heard.

Today’s post is the third and final post as a part of Feminisms Fest, and we’re talking about what we’ve learned from the whole experience. Head over to Preston’s to get the rest of the action. 

But today’s meditation on what it means to have a voice or be voiceless leaves me with a lot of questions: how to advocate, without further drowning out the suppressed? how to make space, so others can build? how to leave our assumptions at the door, and walk offstage if needed? or, is this conversation about ‘voice’ just an abstraction?

I would love to hear your thoughts on what I’ve mused through, and how you’ve reacted to the voice(lessness) theme during #femfest. Let’t talk it out.

the f-bomb synchroblog.

That’s right.


It’s a topic I’ve been dancing around behind the scenes for a while now: behind the scenes because, well, feminism is another f word in my neck of the woods, but for a while because I really have been walking around with feminism in my pockets for years, since before I was aware of it or knew how it intersected with my faith.

So. I am thrilled and terrified to announce that next week, I am joining in the three-day synchroblog cohosted by three amazing bloggers on the subject of feminism.


Prompts and links:

  • {Day 1} Feminism and Me: On Tuesday, February 26, link up at J.R. Goudeau’s blog,, and write about these questions: What is your experience with feminism? What’s a story or a memory or a person that you associate with that word? Why does it have negative or positive connotations for you? How do you define the term, either academically or personally? What writers have you read whose definitions you want to bring out? Or, if you don’t have a definition, what are some big questions you have?
  • {Day 2} Why It Matters: On Wednesday, February 27, link up at Danielle Vermeer’s blog,, and write about these questions: What is at stake in this discussion? Why is feminism important to you? Are you thinking about your children or your sisters or the people that have come before you? Or, why do you not like the term? What are you concerned we’re not focusing on or we’re losing sight of when we talk about feminism? Why do you feel passionately about this topic?
  • {Day 3} What You Learned: On Thursday, February 28, link up at Preston Yancey’s blog,, and write about these questions: What surprised you this week? What did you take away from the discussion? What blog posts did you find particularly helpful? What questions do you still have?

Be sure to read along as well as link up your own posts as they relate to one or all of these topics. It’s going to be big and messy and wonderful, and I can’t wait to see where the conversation leads.

Oh, and use #femfest when you’re talking about it on the Twitters.

So happy Wednesday, and here’s fair warning about the F bombs around here next week.