The Feminine Journey Is A Story Unfolding,

We Have To Acknowledge Sometimes That This Moment Is Enough. This Place Is Enough. I Am Enough.

There's Nothing Like A Song About Lost Love To Remind You How Everything Precious Can Slip From The Hinges Where You've Hung It So Careful.

I Often Went To Catholic Mass Or Eucharist At The Episcopal Church, Nourished By The Symbol And Power Of This Profound Feeding Ritual. It Never Occurred To Me How Odd It Was That Women, Who Have Presided Over The Domain Of Food And Feeding For Thousands Of Years, Were Historically And Routinely Barred From Presiding Over It In A Spiritual Context. And When The Priest Held Out The Host And Said, "this Is My Body, Given For You," Not Once Did I Recognize That It Is Women In The Act Of Breastfeeding Who Most Truly Embody Those Words And Who Are Also Most Excluded From Ritually Saying Them.

Stopping Is A Spiritual Art. It Is The Refuge Where We Drink Life In.

So I Taught Sunday School And Brought Dishes To All Manner Of Potlucks And Tried To Adjust The Things I Heard From The Pulpit To My Increasingly Incongruent Faith.