Essays

Sometimes the world seems blurry to me, recognizable and somehow not, and because I spend so much time wondering about it, I am thankful to have a place for those thoughts to go. There are so many conversations I wish I could have. So, oh my goodness, how gracious is

I wonder if memory is a little unfair to the people we once knew. It has a peculiar habit of keeping them exactly where we left them. Somewhere in the mind, they remain leaning against an old doorway, laughing at something we can no longer remember. They still say the

I had only just finished studying Ecclesiastes when I began my second reading of Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd. Bathsheba’s vanity is among the first things Gabriel Oak notices about her, and having just come from Vanity of vanities; all is vanity, the first faint echo

I’ve always thought there was something rather lovely about an outstretched arm. A merciful invitation, the vulnerability of embrace, the instinct to protect, a willingness to forgive, the possibility of being wanted… Though I suppose even the noblest of outstretched arms has, on occasion, been rather overcome by the