I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.
You can safely assume that you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.
Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.
Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die.
When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens.
A hundred years from now? All new people.
We must not inflict life on children who will be resented; we must not inflict unwanted children on society.
I’ve written six novels and four pieces of nonfiction, so I don’t really have a genre these days.