 Spiritual coercion doesn’t always show up as pressure or argument. More often, it comes disguised as urgency, scripted metaphors, or the assumption that someone else’s spiritual life must be corrected. Jesus does not remove a barrier so God can see us. Student Evangelist #2 (a little thrown):
But don’t you worry about whether you’re saved? Julian: No, dear heart. For my salvation rests not in my certainty, but in God’s unchanging love. Student Evangelist #2 (turning to Lainey): Well, if you just prayed this prayer, right now, you could be sure you’re saved and going to church is part of staying in relationship with God so we can help you with the church part, too. Lainey: Really I’m good. I'm not worried. I know that God loves me at least as much as my family does, which is a lot! And I FaceTime with my them on Sundays for reflection and prayer. Student Evangelist #2: That… doesn’t count. Julian (squinting kindly): Does not… count? Is the Lord keeping score now? Does God sit above with a tally: “FaceTime prayer—one point only”? My dear, the Lord has no use for your accounting system. Lainey (laughing): Julian, I just love you. Julian turning to both Student Evangelists: Tell me, children—who taught you that God is so hard to please? Student Evangelists (quiet now): I… I guess I don’t know any other way. Julian (softly): Then hear this once more: Before ever we were made, we were loved. Our Maker is our Mother, our Keeper, our endless Home. He will never be wroth, and never shall be. Lainey: "Wroth" means "wrathful," by the way. Julian: Whoops, slipping into Middle English mode again! Student Evangelist #1: So… you’re saying I don’t need to convince people they need to be saved from a wrathful God? Julian: No, it's "Revelations of Divine Love" we're to share So share love as freely as God shares it with you. But never press a soul by force. God works in all things with gentleness and joy. Student Evangelist #2: I’ve never heard God talked about like that. Julian: Then perhaps this meeting was needful for you. And all shall be well, dear one-- not by your striving, but by God’s tender keeping. Student Evangelist #1: Well… we just want to make sure you’re not deceived. Julian: Deception usually arrives with fear, urgency, and scripts. Love arrives quietly. Student Evangelist #1: So you don’t think we’re doing the Lord’s work? Julian (gently): You are doing your best with what you have been taught. But the Lord’s work is never done by force, or by ambush tactics meant to trap lonely freshmen with sports involving pickles. Lainey: Thank you. And she means pickleball. Julian (to both student evangelists): Now go on, children. Your calling is simply to love, listen, and let God be God. And all shall be well. And all shall be well. And all manner of thing shall be well. Lainey (grinning at Julian): Can you come to campus more often?  Well, the day finally arrived—just as I told her it would.
Almost a decade after our first conversation about it, my daughter was ambushed at lunch with “God’s plan for salvation.” Spiritual coercion in broad daylight. When she was ten, I wrote a blog getting her opinion on The Four Spiritual Laws. Her clarity and wisdom caught me off guard. Talking with her felt a bit like sitting with medieval mystic, Julian of Norwich—grounded, intuitive, and utterly unbothered by fear-based theology. So when I dropped her off at college, I knew it was only a matter of time. Within the first few weeks, hints began to surface:
After attending one group gathering at their request, she told them it wasn't her thing so would not go again, but she'd be happy to play pickleball and hang out with them. “Time will tell if they’re in it for the long haul with me as their project,” she said. So when they asked her to lunch last Friday, she sighed, “I’m sure it’s not just to enjoy my company.” She was right. “Mom, it was like they were possessed,” she told me later. “I just watched them go through a script. They asked questions they didn’t actually want answers to—or only wanted the right answers.” They began questioning her beliefs about God and humanity's relationship with God, trying to usher her toward Original Sin. She responded: “I see evidence of God in nature and art. Every piece of art reflects the artist.” Polite nods. But hands tightening on the steering wheel. So she stopped them. “I believe in Original Goodness, not Original Sin.” She said it with the same matter-of-fact wisdom she had at ten years old when she critiqued the cross-as-bridge drawing (read: A 10-Year-Old's Response to the 4 Spiritual Laws). But they carried on with Adam and Eve, shame, guilt. How did she describe it to me?—Inherited trauma dressed as gospel. “They just couldn’t accept that I was okay with my spiritual life,” she said. “To them, it didn’t count until I repented according to the script.” “Yeah, well,” I told her, “Good News needs no convincing.” "Seriously!" she responded. They continued the questions, asking if she grew up in church and if she was a part of one now. Yes, she went to church for a long time but no longer attended. Each Sunday morning she FaceTimes her family for reflection and prayer. She went on to share she how her mom was a former youth pastor who got her Masters in Divinity. But none of it counted. Not because it wasn’t spirituality-- but because it wasn’t their definition of church. “And, let's be honest, Mom, your training and position don’t matter to them because you’re a woman.” I asked her how she felt afterward. “Gross,” she said, with a full-body shudder. “Angry. And honestly, I pity them. Their image of God is just awful.” She added: “It’s not that I don’t believe in sin—obviously evil exists. It’s just not the starting place. They weren’t going to listen so I just left it there.” My daughter wasn’t merely disagreeing with their theology-- she was naming something ancient. Original Goodness. This isn’t progressive sentimentality. It’s the first declaration of Scripture: God saw all that was made and called it very good. Before sin, before shame, before doctrine-- blessing comes first. Julian of Norwich knew this. The mystics never forgot the divine starting place. Original Goodness doesn’t deny the reality of harm. It simply refuses to make sin the headline of the human story. We begin in love, not in lack. And any gospel that relies on pressure or shame isn’t Good News at all. After our conversation, I opened ChatGPT and—with a few prompts and some playful imagining—began co-creating an imagined dialogue between Julian of Norwich and the college evangelists in the presence of my daughter. Let’s just say Julian holds nothing back. I can’t wait to share it with you next week. __________________________ A few questions to ponder:
 Buy or stream "Call the Midwife" on Amazon/Prime Video "Call the Midwife," that's where Wisdom met me after online Centering Prayer recently. The phrase that called to me from Wisdom of Solomon 6:12-20 was "appears to them in their paths," but I had no idea how She was going to appear because I was sick with COVID and able to do little after Centering Prayer but watch Netflix and sleep. All my plans for the week were thwarted. "I don't know how you'll meet me in my path, but I'd love for you to show up somehow," I silently and half-heartedly prayed. So I started watching the last BBC episode of season 12 of "Call the Midwife," and smiled when I saw how plans getting thwarted was the theme! With her big plans thwarted, Trixie, one of the midwives, needed to release her grasp on her ideal and open her hands to all of the Plan Bs being offered by her community. In doing so, she found them to be a better fit for her heart. Says narrator and actress in her eighties Vanessa Redgrave, about the community's efforts on behalf of Trixie as the last scene unfolds in episode 8: "It was makeshift. It was chaotic. It was perfect. It was like Mother Wisdom was speaking right to me (and not just about being sick for a week)! I stopped the show and backed it up numerous times to listen to the voice of one who had born witness to many deaths and births of people and plans. I wrote down her words as an extension to the Wisdom of Solomon, savoring them, allowing them to strengthen my heart and soul.
A week later as the Centering Prayer group continued with Wisdom of Solomon during the time of Lectio Divina following the silence, two phrases from 7:7-14 called to me: "in her hands uncounted wealth" and "unfailing treasure." I couldn't help but think of how Wisdom opens our eyes to a different kind of wealth, a more lasting treasure. Once more, Mother Wisdom's voice, sounding now like Vanessa Redgrave, echoed in my ear, "Here are life's riches next to you..." "Call the Midwife" just may be my new phrase for prayer! Wisdom is certainly showing Herself to be a dependable and delightful Midwife to the Soul! (You can watch "Call the Midwife" on PBS or Netflix and/or join me for online Centering Prayer sometime! )  She stood in the parking lot in tears. The only thing that motivated my daughter to get her driver's license was knowing that in a few months she would be a senior in high school and that meant the opportunity to paint her senior parking spot. Lainey sketched out her design and bought the materials. Now here we were, after hours of work and she was ready to take a paint roller to all her plans! She had hit a snag that was throwing off the whole picture (and the picture she held onto in her head). She felt like giving up. "It's ruined!" "Impossible!" "Why did I choose something so hard?" "I can't do this!" The sun had gone down and she kept working by flashlight trying to force her original idea. "Why don't you call it a day and sleep on it? Maybe you'll come up with another idea." I asked and encouraged. On the way home, thankfully she had another plan. The next morning we stood in front of the spot and realized that this idea would not work either. Oh the frustration! "Trust me, you have everything you need inside you. BUT, you're going to have to give up what you had envisioned to make room for something new to emerge. You go paint the ears and let's sit in the Silence a moment. Something will come to us." In releasing her grasp and opening to other possibilities, a new idea did emerge. And not only was it going to work, it was going to add some lighthearted humor to the parking spot, making it even better than she had originally planned. Hope resurrected. A week later I headed to a personal silent retreat and was getting increasingly frustrated as I walked a prayer labyrinth, my own snags and stuckness on my mind. I heard my inner proclamations-- "Impossible!" "I can't do this!" "Why is life so hard sometimes?!" A passage of Scripture I had always loved came to my mind and sounded completely naïve, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” "Sure You will," I said sarcastically and trudged on. In midstride, I stopped and looked up, seeing the sculpture of Jesus on the cross in the monastery cemetery. I silently pleaded, "How did You do it?" as I considered how his path led straight to the cross. Continuing to walk I thought of my words to my daughter, "Trust me, you have everything you need inside you. BUT, you're going to have to give up what you had envisioned to make room for something new to emerge..." Just then a rephrasing of Proverbs 3:5-6 flowed into me: Trust in The Creative Process with all your heart and lean not on your own expectation or image of the ideal. In all your ways allow and accept The Creative Process and your next step will be made known. No circumstance had changed, but my way of seeing sure had! Even seeing God not only as Creator but The Creative Process offered a needed depth. It became clear that through the process of walking the prayer labyrinth, The Creative Process had walked me right into the middle of the Wisdom Pattern! I could now see that I was in the fire of the crucible, the dissolution of the caterpillar in the chrysalis. It was a place I could not force anything to change faster and trying harder would simply lead to more frustration. Instead I was being invited to let my expectations burn and my images of the ideal break apart. In this place I was being asked, "Will you trust in The Creative Process with all your heart?" _______
 Lainey's senior parking spot, 2023-2024 "What a luxury!" a friend said to me when she heard I was going on a silent retreat. "I've discovered a silent retreat is not a luxury, it's a necessity!" I replied. She had no idea how serious I was about my need for silence. At the beginning of July, my body was letting me know I needed a pause--irritability & a short fuse, quick to tears, constant tiredness, feelings of overload & overwhelm, etc. My spouse was letting me know he needed a pause given how his own emotional and physical weariness had intensified by the loss of his father earlier this year. My kids were letting me know they needed a pause to recover from the pressure of school & sports schedules as well as a very active June. Looking at our July schedule, we decided the planned family vacation to Seattle was not a wise idea. It was full of activity rather than rest. And even though we had been looking forward to it for a long time, we would not push through, instead we would pause. While it was to look differently for each of us, all of us needed silence and solitude. Russ went to Missouri to stay at his dad's house by himself then I went to Sacred Heart Monastery in Cullman, Alabama (pictured above) for a private silent retreat. And the kids spent time inside and outside their rooms, painting and playing driveway basketball, allowing for some slow summer days at home. A pause offered us space to grieve and breathe. A pause also helped us see! "When your eyes are tired, the world is tired also," begins poet David Whyte in "Sweet Darkness" from The House of Belonging. When tired, I need to rest my own eyes so I can see the world differently. Of course this is both literal and metaphorical! At Sacred Heart, I needed to literally sleep and have large chunks of time with nothing to do but rest and remember. A sacred pause often looks so ordinary! Here's what mine looked like:
Did it solve all of my problems? No, but it gave me needed insight. It helped me see myself, my work, spouse, kids, and world in a new (or renewed) light. I was reminded that I am not and never will be superwoman. I was also reminded that I have the strength to establish or return to some much-needed boundaries. And my time away affirmed how much I need regular time away! My family, friends, and co-workers would agree! ______________________________________________ What are your indicators that you need a pause? Is there anything you need to pause, postpone, or plan differently? You don't have to go anywhere but sometimes it's good to get away. Even Jesus invited his disciples to "Come away all by yourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile." (Mark 6:31) As his disciples experienced, life can get to be too much sometimes so silence & solitude are a necessity! So whether or not you join me for Centering Prayer or the 4-day silent retreat at Sacred Heart Monastery in October, may you, too, allow silence and solitude to be friends on your journey. (This blog was part of an e-news sent July 2023. Sign up for Kasey's quarterly e-news here.)  Prayer Labyrinth at Sacred Heart Monastery in Cullman, AL  Driving down the road. Putting wet laundry in the dryer. Picking up a garden trowel. The quiet moment before falling asleep. A memory slips into your mind—their familiar whistle, particular look or smell, a phrase spoken…you remember and for a moment you re-member. The Port William Membership…if you don’t know what I’m referring to, it’s time to be introduced to Wendell Berry’s fictional town in Kentucky, its landscape and people. How It Went: Thirteen More Stories of the Port William Membership is his latest (and hopefully not last) book. I bought it for myself for Christmas and quickly read it, but like each of his Port William novels and short stories, they stay with me long after. Berry has a knack for describing the lived experience of the land and its people. Even if their particularities are not your particularities, you find yourself woven into their human experience. Stories of small town & farm-life, a barber and his shop, being a child or a parent during a world at war in the 1940s…they pull you in and draw you like a threaded needle into the fabric of your own life. With an ease that may surprise, you open your own memory box containing the people and places that have made you and many times, held you together. This particular book centers on an old man, a writer, looking back (like Berry himself). “Memories of times and places he had forgotten came back to him, reached him at last as if they had been on their way for a long time. He realized how fully and permanently mere glances, touches, passing words, from all his life far back into childhood, had taken place in his heart…” (p. 76). Andy Catlett remembers those no longer living and “yet by their absence his old companions have in a way come closer to him than they were when they were alive. They seem to involve themselves intimately in his life as he goes on living it” (p. 131). He sounds a lot like Saint John Chrysostom in the 4th century: “Those whom we love and lose are no longer where they were before. They are now wherever we are.” There are expressions of wit and wisdom that you have inherited. There are people whose presence, whether still with you in body or not, continue to bring comfort, encouragement, or perhaps curiosity! Pause for a moment:
___________________________ Just now as I finished writing, my son opened a can of sparkling water and the sound of his pouring it over ice took me back to childhood. I’m in 4th grade, pouring a cold glass bottle of Pepsi over ice and running it out to my mom who is push-mowing the front yard. I knew she loved the frothy fizz and wanted her to enjoy it that hot day. Although little fizz was left by the time she stopped and knelt down to drink it, I remember her look of appreciation, her joy in being remembered. To Get Started with Port William, look for these books: Jayber Crow Andy Catlett: Early Travels Hannah Coulter Nathan Coulter A Place in Time: Twenty Stories of the Port William Membership How It Went: Thirteen More Stories of the Port William Membership Kasey Hitt is a co-founder and instructor for Wisdom Tree Collective. She’s been a spiritual director since 2003 and has been reading Wendell Berry novels and poetry for just as long.
You can also find this blog and others from the Membership of Wisdom Tree Collective here. A week ago, Steve had an experience of God at the 4 day silent retreat at St. Meinrad Archabbey that he will never forget. Here's his story in his own words... "It wasn't that I ended up or happened to be at the retreat, it was the retreat ended up happening to me! I have a past that I hadn’t been able to deal with, in fact I let it define who I was. As a result I struggled with how God could love me. I read about His unconditional love in the Bible, it was preached from the pulpit, but I could never let it into my soul. During four days of silence and total disconnect from daily life along with Spiritual Directors as God’s conduit, I surfaced deeper sins I had refused to look at and became aware that all these sins were not who I was, but something I did. Remove what I did and I am still the child of God He created. In my silence focusing on listening to God I heard Him speak, “Steve, I love you.” And I melted. I cried. I felt lifted up. My spiritual awakening could not have happened without the silent retreat and spiritual direction. It created the environment where I could actually hear God speak to me. I have been so blessed. A couple of days later I awoke at 3:30 am giddy with life like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning." ________ The power of Silence and Spiritual Direction! Many thanks to Sally Sharpe for joining me to provide spiritual direction at this silent retreat. Note: Steve started to befriend Silence through Centering Prayer and a silent day retreat. You're welcome to join me online any Friday from 9am-10am CT for a Centering Prayer group. Beginners always welcome! Contact me for the Zoom link.  The campus of Saint Meinrad Archabbey in St. Meinrad, IN  OH county maps by Catbar, the dot is Piqua “I’ve always known God to be the 'God of Surprises'!” the twinkly-eyed 80-year-old woman said after I asked her to tell me about her relationship with God. “Take you for instance,” she went on, “I woke up in the night a few weeks ago and heard God say, ‘Spiritual direction would be good for you,’ and I said, ‘Yes, Lord, I’m listening, who do you want me to see?’” She paused then said, “And immediately your face came to mind! I remembered you and it didn’t even matter to me that you weren’t Catholic!” I didn’t know her too well and hadn’t seen her since before the pandemic began. In fact, I was amazed she even remembered me at all! “But then you told me you had no openings,” she said incredulously, “So I said, ‘Well, Lord, I’ll trust you anyway.” Her eyes lit up as she said, “And now here you sit!” Three days after I told her I had no openings, I wondered what spiritual director would be able to go see her as she no longer was able to drive. As I thought about who lived close to her, I realized that she lived near the place my daughter took fencing lessons, so I actually did have space in my monthly calendar when I could go see her! We laughed and I said, “God of Surprises for sure!” She told me that while it had been close to a decade since she’d seen a spiritual director, God had always brought the right ones to her at the right time. “Every single one I have connected with and they have become dear to me,” she reflected. Then I asked her where she grew up (it's not a question I usually ask but I did that day). She leaned forward (as to let me in on a secret), “A little town called, Pick-way, O-hi-o!” “You grew up in Piqua, Ohio?!” I said laughing, “Not only do I know where that is, but that’s my hometown, too!” “God of Surprises!” we both exclaimed. We reminisced about Piqua, the streets we lived on and schools we attended. I told her that my parents still lived there and also had a tiny cottage up on Lake Loramie. “Do you know where that is?” I asked her. “Of course! It’s on State Woot 66 and the reason I say "Woot" is because I had a coach for a teacher who had a speech impediment—” I leaped forward in my chair, interrupting her excitedly, “You had Coach Heil!” “What?!” she exclaimed, “You knew him, too?!” “I did because he was my Health teacher AND my Drivers’ Ed instructor! Wow, you had him when he was a young pup in his 20s at Piqua Catholic and I had him when he was in his 60s at Piqua High School!” “God of Surprises!” we gleefully shouted in unison, now both of us suspecting we were part of a Divine secret. We sat in silence for a few moments just marveling, shaking our heads. “I tell you, I would never have guessed in a million years that I would be sitting here in Nashville, Tennessee, talking to you about Piqua, Ohio, and Coach Heil!” I laughed. “I know it, God of Surprises, I told you, it's always been true!" she responded, "I need to call my sister in Ohio because she is never going to believe this!” Believe it or not, there were even more surprising revelations of connection that she shared with me that first session! The hour came to a close and we hugged. I could tell I had already become dear to her and she had become dear to me. There was no doubt the Holy Spirit was the true Spiritual Director! I crawled into my car and couldn't help but cry tears of gratitude all the way back to the fencing club, full of wonder and awe at the God of Surprises.  Fort Piqua Hotel, photo by Christopher L. Riley, CC BY-SA 4.0 I had a blog I was going to share then decided not to...yet.
As I read what I had written, my supervisor's wise words echoed in my head, "Sometimes a spiritual insight or experience is meant to nourish you for a while before you offer it to others. Given away too soon and it loses some of its potency for your own heart & soul." So I decided to savor the experience and insight for now and share her words instead. In this age of social media, "sharing" can become compulsive (those of us who teach have this tendency as well)! Here's some encouragement to savor a moment or insight without sharing a photo or post...yet. I couldn’t go to sleep. Spending time in a crowded hospital with a dear friend who was dying left me restless and lying awake looking for God in the dark and finding nothing. It was the proverbial last straw. Too much. “What the hell?!...Does God even exist?!” I bitterly thought in the emptiness. The absurdity of being a spiritual director seemed to mock me in that moment. Every image of God I ever held did nothing to comfort me and the absence of images and comfort left me in a place of nihilistic rage and deep sadness. Even though I had read John of the Cross and Julian of Norwich by her hospital bed, recalling conversations we had enjoyed over the years about their (and our) experiences of love in the darkness, here I was struggling in my own dark night. “What a waste of my life! What a charade!” I thought as I recalled my life of being devoted to God and tending to the spiritual life, both mine and others, only to stare into the void of meaninglessness (and not for the first time). Furrowed brow, eyes squeezed shut, the rest of my body now as tense as my face, silently shouting—"Where is God in this chaos?” “Why even ask? Life is showing me there really is no God at all.” After a while, somehow, something small slipped in through the tightness and whispered, “God IS Chaos.” Before I could think, my brow and eyes started softening. My body noticed the truth before my brain could think about refuting what had just been spoken to me in the dark. Then an image appeared in my mind’s eye—Kali. I couldn't remember much about her, only that she's the Hindu goddess of chaos and destruction leading to life. Images of her can be quite disturbing (especially for those of us Westerners who don't know the symbolism) and here she was showing up in the stillness of night! Later I would read that in Hinduism, she is the ultimate manifestation of Shakti, the primordial energy, the mother of all (watch this video for more). Kali’s dark skin stands for this chaotic, life-birthing energy.  "Hearing ‘God IS Chaos’ and remembering the Hindu goddess, Kali…there was something strangely settling in that, and I was able to fall asleep,” I later texted a friend, a nurse experiencing burnout in a crowded hospital (she went on to write a piece of prose for her doctoral class assignment based on our text thread). __________ The next morning, I walked outside in my pajamas. The stifling heat, sticky humidity, and earsplitting cicadas continued the conversation— I was surrounded by the sound and sensations of chaos. I forced myself to sit in the discomfort. From that place I wondered if I had written anything down from the Icon-Writing Retreat my dear friend and I had attended together a couple of months earlier. I went inside, grabbed my journal, then returned to the front porch to find the dates of that weekend retreat. __________ In the first place, I had no time to go on that retreat. Life had been exhausting and the thought of painting anything in that state added to my overwhelm. In the second place, I wanted to spend time with my dear friend, knowing that stage 4 cancer was eventually going to rob us of time (by the way, Kali's name means both "darkness" and " force or fullness of time"). So I picked her up on a Friday morning in May and went. _________ There it was, May 13th-15th, along with a short entry for each day (the last one being, "I am so glad I went."). I was grateful that I had written down a few things, even though they had been forgotten in the rush of life’s challenges. I recalled how my friend and I sat side-by-side looking at the blank wood that our icons would be painted on and while she felt excitement, I felt dread. How was I going to do this?! The instructor told us to fill our brushes with paint and then said, “Relax, because the first stroke when it comes to painting an icon is called The Chaos Stroke!” Immediately I softened and a hint of excitement even found its way inside my weary head. The Chaos Stroke is named so because it represents the primordial energy at the beginning of Creation found in the first chapter of Genesis in the Hebrew Bible. Our spontaneous swirls and waves echoed the Spirit (or Wind or Breath) of God, moving over the surface of the deep, dark waters. And like the Genesis account, step by step, day by day, things started appearing where before there was nothing but potential in the eye of the Beholder. From the chaos within me, from the chaotic swirls on my wooden panel, emerged a rendering of Rublev’s Trinity from the 15th century!  My finished icon of Rublev's Trinity I smiled sitting on the porch, in awe of the synchronicities…chaos, Kali, cicadas, a journal entry about the Chaos Stroke from an icon retreat attended with this friend whose impending death had ushered in another layer of chaos... Nothing had changed. It still felt awful to know my friend was going to die (and she did, less than 24 hours later). And the things that were a mess in my life, were still a mess. Nothing had changed this, and yet… Being open to “God Is Chaos” had strangely allowed comfort and brought the awareness that God was also “With Me in Chaos.” The latter recalls the message gifted us through the person of Jesus the Christ, who was called Emmanuel, God-with-us. Light began shining in my darkness once more. Holding the paradox of "God Is Chaos" and "God With Us in Chaos," I remembered the expression that emerged on the face of the center figure, the Christ, in my friend’s painting of the Holy Trinity—we laughed and called him the “Mischievous Jesus.” He knew something we did not...yet. Even now, words fail to describe how, in darkness and in light, I keep being beckoned into the at-times-difficult, divine dance that Rublev painted years ago, his brush beginning with Chaos.  My friend, Linda, and me with our unfinished icons. We both finished them at home. |
AuthorKasey is a scarf, ball and club juggling spiritual director just outside of Nashville, TN. Play helps her Type-A, Enneagram 1 personality relax, creating space for poetry and other words to emerge. She also likes playing with theological ideas like perichoresis, and all the ways we're invited into this Triune dance. Archives
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