In which I write a letter to Women’s Ministry
In which I have an Evangelical Hero Complex
In which we need pragmatists and prophets (a lament for Sandy Hook)
In which I tell you the truth about telling the truth
In which God doesn’t look the same anymore
In which I am here, breastfeeding, but not for much longer
In which these are the tired thirities
In which you are loved and you are free
In which I promise not to call myself fat
In which I am done fighting for a seat at the table
In which (love looks like) room to change
In which [love looks like] a real marriage
