All in On Being in the World

Dear Mother Church: an open letter on guns and going home again.

Dear you, dear me, dear us, 

I've lived in a three-hour radius nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains for my entire life. Growing up, my friends and I stayed out past dark playing in our neighborhood's lazy loops and stealing crabapples from an elderly neighbor's front yard, only breaking up the party when someone's mama whistled that it was time to come in.

Manifest destiny: a love letter to my white Christian neighbors

We owe it to our neighbors and our children's children to educate ourselves: to listen to our black neighbors and believe them when they share their experiences. We owe it to them to not make excuses or turn their narratives into partisan debates. We owe them our eyes, unafraid to look at the scars and the pain and the centuries their souls have traveled barefoot. We owe it to them to not just say that black lives matter, but to show it. Because we cannot love what we are unwilling to see.