Sunday Musings: Sometimes I Feel Like a Christian...And Sometimes I Don't

I have had this commercial from yesteryear playing in my head....more

Graceful GROWTH

Since I bounce back from blog sulking for the nth time, I hope that this will be a fresh start, especially blogging in my BlogHer account. I had selective amnesia for about three years. Good thing I sought solution on my blogging problem.I also joined WordPress’ “A Post A Day Challenge”, bracing myself with courage to conquer my procrastination. I checked out the daily prompts, and I prefer to focus on theme GROW for the month of April.I noticed it late, so my official entry for the NaBloPoMo Challenge starts today, Day 10:...more

Song of the Week

Will you standIn your own graceEmbrace your brightest lightDon’t let it fadeGive up the constant fightFor being anything less than greatMay the lyrics from this week's song of the week resonate with your soulhttp://inspiritual.biz/inspiritual-song-of-the-week1/ ...more

How to Say Thanksgiving Grace

Editor's note: Mata, BlogHer's longtime and much-loved contributing editor on religion and spirituality, passed away in May of 2013. I can think of no better tribute than re-running this post she wrote in 2009, on giving thanks. -- Julie ...more
On Thanksgiving and before every meal.more

Grace in the Darkest Moments

The news is really bad lately.  Really bad.  I feel powerless to help in most instances, other than to pray.  It is at times like these that I remember the power of grace and how it appears in our darkest moments to comfort us and I can only hope that grace is ever present among those who are suffering. ...more

Not Me, But We.

Grace or Something Like It

My go-to music on my drive to-from work is usually Mumford & Sons–mostly because I can easily tell Siri to “play Mumford” and get at least an hours worth of soul-soothing or fast-driving tune-age. But the lyrics also require me to confront the concept of grace more often than I ever have in my life....more

My grandmother's influence

I stood for a long while at the sink, washing and trimming the flat of strawberries from Sunday’s farmers market. In my left hand, between thumb and forefingers, I held one berry at a time. In my right, I gently gripped the handle of a paring knife and sliced the stem end off with a motion running towards my body. My hands worked together in a practiced way, the repetitive motions so unconsciously deft that when I plucked the last berry from the colander, I was surprised....more