It was never in the living room. Our lives happened around a slab of wood. Our kitchen table was a sacred space growing up. We did the hard work of developing our beliefs and our character, asked big questions and shared all of our dreams. We fumbled over apologies and worked on humbling ourselves enough to ask for help. It was the spot for homework, dinners, celebrations, mourning, building and mending relationships, and everything else in between. Our family loves to eat and we believe in the beauty of sitting around a table together. “We don't come to the table to fight or to defend. We don't come to prove or to conquer, to draw lines in the sand or to stir...
Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of us will ever experience.”
I'm learning to practice gratitude for a healthy body, even if it's rounder than I'd like it to be. I’m learning to take up all the space I need, literally and figuratively, even though we live in a world that wants women to be tiny and quiet. To feed one’s body, to admit one’s hunger, to look one's appetite straight in the eye without fear or shame—this is controversial work in our culture. Part of being a Christian means practicing grace in all sorts of big and small and daily ways, and my body gives me the opportunity to demonstrate grace, to make peace with imperfection every time I see myself in the mirror. On my best days, I practice...
