At four years of age, I decided to learn how to write. I sprawled on the living room carpet, placed a blank page over a flattened Smarties box, and traced the letters. Then I ran to the kitchen, triumphantly presenting the sheet to my mother, exclaiming, “I can write!” She observed, “You copied a Smarties…
“Ave, ave,” soar the stereo boy-voicesas I hang the blue-robed Virgenand her naked Niñofrom the top of the tree.A cubit below the fatherless Holy Family, I tethertheir tin burro to a branch.The mother and child are all of a piece,a single piece of cutout hammered metalwrought by the peasant handsand fingers of the Oaxaca women’s…
The Westminster Catechism opens with “What is the chief end of man? Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.” Is it? In church a few weeks ago, we sang the Chris Tomlin song “Better is One Day,” with the refrain “better is one day in your house than thousands elsewhere.”…
I discovered NPR’s Tiny Desk series on YouTube a few years ago when I was obsessed with Snarky Puppy and striving to become a jazz musician. Live, unpolished performances without autotune or much prep time are the true test of accomplished artists. That is why when I chanced upon Maverick City Music’s Tiny Desk Concert,…
I have a confession to make: I am a bitter disabled person. The media’s portrayal of people with disabilities had me believing that I’d forever be classified as either inspirational simply for existing, or pitied for being a helpless, worst-case scenario come to life. Add social media to the mix as a young adult, and…
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