Welcome, friends.
There is a small, white parsonage back behind the brazen corn. Look for the bright trellis and iron columns studded with thick vines and acorns, the cottage right beside the steepled church.
And if you step over the tricycles and the worn rain boots on that wide front porch, you’ll find us:
two rookie pastors
armed with three radiant kiddos
and a lukewarm cup of coffee.
And honestly, we almost never made it here.
Yet after years of questions and hope, moving trucks and new beginnings, our ragtag family stumbled upon Zion.
And in this old parsonage, we are discovering peace and joy and life.
In fact, as we all heed the invitation to Zion, we become healed and whole. Together.
These reflections are an answer to the steady call of brave, extraordinary women whose voices have urged me toward discovery and formation;
a response to those who sat alongside in my dark nights of the soul with compassion, grace, and their own beautiful stories;
and a reminder, an open letter of sorts, to myself and my own children:
to be true and present and courageous enough to recover your voice.
This is a bit of that re-emerging. And fortunately enough, its from the front pew.
Grace and peace,
Michaela