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Broken Wholeness
Before my conversion to Catholicism (and before a rather lengthy agnostic walkabout), I was born and raised an Evangelical Protestant. There’s a lot of good things to be said for Evangelicalism: it’s...
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The Political and the Personal: A Prelude to My Abortion Story
When I was young—really young—my parents used to picket abortion clinics. I still remember the picket signs, with big permanent marker lettering and pasted cutouts of ultrasound images, that they kept...
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My Abortion Story
Note: My apologies for the long post. Some stories just don’t tell short. The “Prelude” to my story is here. The most remarkable thing about the day that I discovered I was pregnant was that it hadn’t...
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Confession and the End of Catholic Guilt
I’ve always loved Woody Allen films because I always identified—more than I’d like to admit—with Allen’s neuroses, anxieties, and performed guilt. There’s a memorable and witty exchange on guilt...
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Sex, Shame, and Purity Culture
For most of my life, I’ve felt like I had two choices when it came to expressing my sexuality: I could be a dirty (as in sinful, impure, unwanted) girl or I could be a dirty (as in sexy, desirable, …...
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On quitting as a form of starting
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped running. I had made it through three of the four short running segments that were meant to make up that day’s run-walk; but, when I started the fourth one, I dropped...
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“I’m Already There”
I’m in the process of digitizing my entire filing cabinet (it’s amazing how many nonsense projects you devise when you’re trying to avoid writing your dissertation!) and I just found, filed away under...
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Of Sheep and Sadness
I posted last year about an extended visit to Mt. Saviour Monastery—but there’s one story I left out of that narrative. The monastery is also a functioning sheep farm and so I spent a lot of my days...
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