I keep a “to-done” list. That's not a typo. It’s a real thing, kept near my desk as a reminder of what really matters. It’s not the list of tasks I meant to get done. It's an example of the sorts of interruptions that likely happened instead.

The person who dropped by the church office just to talk for a few minutes. The book recommendation that arrived in my inbox when I didn’t have time for a new book. The task I hadn’t planned to do, but that suddenly presented itself and wouldn’t let go. The extra five minutes it took to stop and listen—or to laugh.

My to-do list is full of intention. My to-done list is full of grace. And more often than not, it’s that second list that turns out to matter more.

We've reached the midpoint of the year. Perhaps you're as surprised as I am. Some days I find myself thinking that 2025 is painfully slow. Other days, I grieve at the quickening pace of anger, injustice, and outright change.

​Today, on the last day of the first half of this year, I found myself wanting to offer a simple blessing. Maybe you need it. I know I do.

It’s been a while since I last wrote here. Seriously. My last post was July 2024. (Remember how quaint the world was back then?!)

That probably says something already.

Lately I’ve been paying attention to the things that are teaching me... not in a “perfectly curated lesson plan” kind of way, but in the quiet, lopsided, occasionally laugh-out-loud ways that life teaches all of us. Some of these lessons have come through grief. Some through joy. Most through just trying to be a halfway decent human in a time of chaos and pain.

​So, in no particular order, here’s what I’m learning these days:

Last night, there was a big football game on. Incredibly, this was the first year I was actually more excited for the game than I was for the commercials (though admittedly Usher's star-studded halftime show also piqued my interest). It's no secret that I'm not much of a sportsball fan, but all self-respecting Swifties were required to tune in to count how many times the cameras panned to her cheering in the Kelce family suite. It's in our contract. We are also required to enthusiastically join her in rooting for... I'm going to say... the red team?

Anyway, during the game I watched with a mixture of interest, inspiration, and gut-wrenching disgust a one minute advertisement from the "He Gets Us" campaign, featuring images of mismatched individuals -- children of God, all -- washing each other's feet. The concept is Christlike. The execution leaves something to be desired. The motives are more than worthy of questioning.

Everywhere I look, I'm seeing statements about the latest round of war in the Holy Land... faith communities, denominations, non-profits, political leaders... they're all offering a statement, before then turning around and picking apart the statements of others.  Not to mention, everyone on social media has somehow become an expert in peace treaties. And war.

Yet, for whatever reason, the Spirit led me strongly to make a statement of my own today. Not so much to add more static to the noise that's already out there. But to call out yet another example of how binary thinking can get us into trouble.  In this case, I chose to make a vlog... mostly because I wish I were still a hip young person who uses words like vlog.

Being bisexual is a blessing in my life.

Actually, let me pause there for a moment. It’s not lost on me that even my ability to begin a blog post with those words is a profound blessing because, truthfully, it hasn’t always been the case. A few years ago, I likely would’ve named it as a “burden” instead; more on that in a bit. But now, in recognition of Bisexual Visibility Day in the year of our Lord 2023, I’m able to celebrate my bi identity for the blessing it is – personally, vocationally, and spiritually. 
​

Over the past week, my social media feeds have been overwhelmed with a viral article entitled "Departure: Why I Left the Church," authored by the Rev. Alex Lang, a PC(USA) pastor who recently stepped away from parish ministry. Along with the many reposts of that specific blog post, I encountered many, many response posts penned by other clergy friends, colleagues, and acquaintances from across the denominational spectrum. Many of those responses lifted up similar sentiments, in a "me too" vibe. Others served as more of a counter to Rev. Lang's words, with many a post suggesting he had it coming.