Kendra Fletcher's Blog

Summer is nearly here and I’m counting down just four months until I officially start my MSt program in October. It’s been 31 years since I graduated from college with a BA Music, but reading from a wide variety of genres has always appealed to me. I was excited to receive a list of suggested reading and ready to get started right away.

The list sent to us has a caveat: read what interests you or what you feel you need to know, but don’t try to tackle the entire thing before the term begins. I find book restraint a challenge, but then there are only so many days ahead of me. I needed to be selective. What you see in the photo are the books I’ve chosen, with The Blazing World being the exception—it wasn’t on the list. It’s a brand-new publication, covering England’s revolutionary era from 1603-1689.

Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction, Edward Craig

Architecture: A Very Short Introduction, Andrew Ballantyne

Eighteenth-Century Britain: A Very Short Introduction, Paul Langford

Nineteenth-Century Britain: A Very Short Introduction, Christopher Harvie and H.C.G. Matthew

Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory, Penguin Reference Library

The Art of Art History, Donald Preziosi

The Oxford Handbook of Interdisciplinarity, Robert Frodeman, Julie Thompson Klein, Carl Mitcham

Unfinished Empire: The Global Expansion of Britain, John Darwin

Have you read any of the books I’m reading? Would you like to join me and discuss any of them? Let me know and we can read together!

Go back briefly with me to the spring of 1992. Married for just over 9 months, I stood graduating with a bachelor’s degree that would be used mildly in its specificity, but broadly in its influence on my life and the education of my children. The plan was to pursue a master’s degree after Fletch finished dental school, but by then we were raising two little boys and hoping to have more.

The story gets complicated from here — deep dives into religiosity and an emphasis on playing by the rules of a narrow and extra-Biblical paradigm. For a decade, our lives were bound by what we were being told within that legalistic community, but there were nudges and gentle reminders and really loud wake-up calls that finally moved us out of the weird worlds of homeschool-only, big family, one-way-to-do-life Evangelicalism. Thank God.

I spent 25 years homeschooling our 8 to one extent or another, and I loved most of it. I mean, there were days I wanted to walk out the door and sit poolside with a margarita, but that’s indicative of the long range of any career.

And then the timing was right. Our youngest two (now 16 and 15) are in high school, and I have worked myself out of homeschooling. The potential for a new path suddenly opened up and here I am, at 52 years old, heading to graduate school in October.

I was accepted by the University of Oxford. It wasn’t out of the blue by any means, but it still stunned me the morning the email arrived and I spent that week tripping through my disbelief. My plan at this point in the journey is to record the next two years of this experience here, and I’d love for you to come along.

It started with a search for courses that could help me boost my experience in literary analysis and theory, which led me to Oxford’s Continuing Education offerings. As I read the site, I quickly realized that I could eventually apply to a master’s program there, but that I needed to make sure this was a school and department I really wanted to be a part of. Both my late brother and a dear friend who chairs the art department at a prestigious university encouraged me to think about where I wanted to be—a master’s program needs to fit you, the student, as much as you need to be a good fit for the program.

After four literature courses, I knew the Master of Studies in Literature and Arts was a program I was highly interested in and probably well-suited for.

Along the way, I’ve had cheerleaders. Don’t minimize the impact of friends and family who will be there to encourage you when the reading is overwhelming and the essay is due. In my case, I married a guy who told me that I’d given 30 years serving our family and now it’s my turn to follow my passion. He even told me I should consider moving away for the year if I needed to—lots of couples live apart to accomplish a short-term goal and he wanted me to be able to dive in unencumbered. I chose a two-year part-time program that requires me to be at the university several times a year, but I’ll be studying from home where I can stay close to a few high schoolers who still need their mom.

There’s a lot more to say about the process, from coursework to passing points/grades to applications and interviews. If you’re planning on applying to grad school as an older or returning student, I’m happy to share. In the meantime, I’m reading a wide variety of books, from those I don’t think I’ll have time for over the next two academic years to those I think might help me as a grad student. If you are a grad or doctoral student, drop me your hints in the comments, please!

Radcliffe Camera, Oxford - Oct 2006, wikicommons

Want to read Anna Karenina with me this summer? I’m offering a free online book club for anyone who would like to tackle Tolstoy. You can send me an email to join the group here.

Until next time,

Kendra

Happy holiday weekend, if you’re in the States. If you’re not, hey! Enjoy the weekend.

I have enjoyed writing and connecting all these years through my various blogs and the podcast, but I am just not turning out as many posts as I used to—only four this year. All the marketing people loudly proclaim that we must maintain email lists because social media platforms are fickle (Twitter ***cough), so I’ve held on to mine for years now, despite the fact that I’m not building anything. I don’t need a platform and I’m not selling anything except freedom.

As of this week, I’ll be discontinuing my email newsletter. This is purely an economic decision because the money out doesn’t equal the number of posts I’m writing and sending. I will miss connecting here, although I will likely continue to post when there is something to say or some way to help. If you ever think about it, pop over here and see if there’s anything new.

You will still be able to contact me through my email, so don’t hesitate if you need to connect. I’m not really active on Facebook and we’ll see where Twitter goes, but I do post pretty regularly on my Instagram accounts:

@kendraefletcher (general life stuff)
@kendrafletcherteaches (all about classes I teach, help for parents and students, and bookish content)
@marmeemakes (knitting projects because it’s my one skill)

Please comment below if you’d like. I so appreciate all of the connections I’ve made here over the years, and I still passionately believe in vibrant, living faith without the mess of religious rules and behavior. More of Christ, less of a platform ;)

That’s a pretty impressive taco tongue.

Hi!

If you’ve read my stuff since way back in the Preschoolers and Peace days, you know it’s relatively quiet on this site. Back then, I wrote and published three times per week, and over here, I’m clocking in at about three times per year.

If you’re somewhat new to my writing over here, I hope three times per year suits you just fine.

Still, I do feel I owe you all some sort of an update on where I’m writing, what I’m writing, where I’m speaking, and what my family is up to. Some of you feel you know all of us because you’ve been here for so long, and I love that!

Aside from my copious career of three blog posts per year, I’m also sharing my articles with Key Life Ministries and publications that ask me from time to time. Go take a look at the other authors at Key Life — you’ll be encouraged.

Is it time for another book? Perhaps. But I have a firm belief that I should only be writing what God asks me to write, and currently, that’s something else entirely (see “School”).

Yes! I still do speak wherever I’m asked. I wrapped up 25 years of homeschooling this year, but I did just speak at a small homeschool gathering last month and will always have a heart to encourage those of you who are still in the trenches. Homeschooling is hard.

My husband and I recently spoke for a week of family camp at Sandy Cove Ministries in Maryland, and we were overwhelmed with gratitude to be back there again. Have you been to Sandy Cove? Go. The leadership team is driven by grace and justice and mercy. For 75 years, the motto of Sandy Cove Ministries has been “Jesus Never Fails.” Amen.

I’m back in school! Since I graduated with my BA a million years ago (okay, just 30), I’ve wanted to pursue a Master’s degree. But 30 years changes a lot of things, and my desire for an MA in music has become a desire for an MA in literature. I’ve been studying online through Oxford University, and I’ll be applying for grad programs this fall. Wish me luck!

Instead of articles and books, I’ve been writing essays. Lots and lots of essays.

And all of this brings me to the fact that I’ve also been teaching literature and writing online through Outschool. I adore this job! My students are from all over the world and they bring rich perspectives and ideas to our discussions. If you have a student in your home, I’d love to have them join us. You can find all of my Outschool classes here.

My goal is to continue to teach online, wherever that is in the future. Come see me on Instagram @kendrafletcherteaches

There are a lot of us, so here’s a quick rundown:

Hayden is 29 and does all of the digital content and marketing for a music school in the Bay Area.

Nate is 27 and married to Jayne. They live about 10 minutes from us, which is super fun since they have our two grandbabies and one on the way!

Jack is 25 and works in a restaurant in Portland, OR. We wish he’d move closer but we also envy the beauty of his location.

Abby is 23 and working on her teaching credential. She has a biology degree and will be teaching high school biology. God bless her.

Caroline is 21 and is working as the scheduler for Fletch’s practice. She’s studying philosophy and also working part-time for the local opera company.

Annesley (Lola or Lalo, depending on who’s saying it) is 18 and studying early childhood development, but she’s seriously considering culinary school.

Christian is 15 and creates music every day. He loves to skateboard around town and is really digging being an uncle.

Joe is 14, but due to his brain injury, is developmentally about 6. We could write volumes about this kid, so feel free to ask if you’re curious. Yes, he still adores Peppa Pig.

Fletch and I just celebrated 31 years of marriage and we still really like each other. You guys, I’m in love!

Thank you for continuing to hang out here. My mission, so to speak, has never really changed: Help people get free from crappy religious behavior and learn to just simply follow Jesus. Lots of people these days call that deconstruction, but I don’t care what it’s called as long as it’s all about Jesus.

Need help leaving legalism? I’m still here to do that, too.

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My favorite Bible teacher said something recently that made me pop an earbud out and press pause.

How dare he. I mean, here we were swimming along through the book he’s currently teaching, and all of the sudden he decides to voice his political opinion, which just so happens not to coincide with my own.

This man is highly educated. He’s been my favorite Bible teacher from way back when I’d catch his broadcast in college. And I’m old, so he’s more old. Older than I am. And far, far wiser.

But that thing he said . . . What was I going to do with that? How could I still trust his wisdom and perspective, his knowledge of Greek and Hebrew, and his experience as a follower of Christ over decades of his life? We weren’t going to see eye-to-eye on this one pretty important point.

Gratefully, I’m older and wiser now, too. There’s a lot of room for spiritual growth in my life yet, but I’m midway through an American life expectancy and I’m beginning to see where God has done some pretty impressive work, in spite of my undersized efforts. In the past, I’ve walked away from people and communities who aren’t “like-minded” (read: we think the same about everything theological, ideological, and pedagogical), believing that they had nothing for me and I was squandering my superiority on them. I’m not going to spit-shine and polish that last sentence to make myself seem less terrible than I really have been. I really was that terrible.

But this time when my Bible teacher guy said that thing that made me stop the podcast to argue with him out loud in my kitchen where he would never hear me anyway, I realized pretty quickly that I had been given a gift. My tendency has been to identify teachers and leaders who confirm my own biases and take up my cross to follow them. That’s ended not just once in disaster.

This time, my heart was softer. This time, I could smile and acknowledge that we were just going to have to agree to disagree. This time, I was actually grateful that we didn’t agree because in that one statement my eyes were thrust back upon Jesus and not on the guy saying the thing.

And the next day, I pulled that podcast up again and pushed play. As I’ve said here on repeat, it really is just all about Jesus, and Jesus didn’t come for my political opinions.

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The whole entire book of Colossians is blowing up my life.

The explosion is a long time coming, because back in the First and Second books of Peter (letters he wrote to struggling Christians he knew), I couldn’t walk away from my reading without wrestling with a lot of little niggling things. I read those two short books just last month, so the collateral upheaval is acute as I sit here in February of 2022 in the wake of what isn’t quite yet a wake of a pandemic.

I’m not a Bible teacher, so I won’t be parsing Scripture here. But if you are curious to know where God seems to be lighting a little TNT under the churches Peter and Paul wrote to in the books of 1 & 2 Peter and Colossians, hold onto your hat for a few combustible moments.

Actually, just two:

Peter lays out the Christian’s identity in the second chapter of 1 Peter. He uses words like a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his possession. The meaning of each of those monikers can be broken down and cross-referenced and have been done so by commentators across the centuries. The short version is that when God enters the life of a believer in Christ, that believer becomes his.

He goes on to say, Look—you’re so loved by God and protected by him and secure in his love for you, you don’t need to do all the empty things you were doing to make yourselves feel better about yourselves. The reminder of who the believers are and whose they are should make us religious people relax. He loves us!

And then, Peter drops the bomb.

“Submit to every human authority because of the Lord, whether to the emperor as the supreme authority or to governors as those sent out by him to punish those who do what is evil and to praise those who do what is good. For it is God’s will that you silence the ignorance of foolish people by doing good. Submit as free people, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but as God’s slaves. Honor everyone. Love the brothers and sisters. Fear God. Honor the emperor.”

Excuse me, but what?

I picked up my phone and texted an older, wiser friend who actually is a Bible teacher and I asked, “How do we read the second chapter of 1 Peter and demand from our leaders our perceived freedoms? Is it just me, or do we submit to our government, even if we lose our earthly freedoms to do what we want?”

Before I disclose her reply, I want you to know that I wasn’t being pawky when I asked. And in the political climate that has seen mask mandates and protests and freedom convoys, I know I risk losing some of you, too. It’s okay. Maybe you read this passage differently than she and I have. You have that freedom. But here’s her response to me:

“I think we submit. And look like Jesus whatever the cost.”

Can you feel the shrapnel? When Jesus blows up our expectations and bids us to take up our cross to follow him and “look like Jesus whatever the cost”, there’s a lot of shrapnel. It changes us. It makes us look at our lives a little differently. It burrows itself into our broken places but always, always in light of the reminders that we are just what God has called us: His. For his glory and our good.

I’ll come back to the second explosion in 2 Peter next time. Until then, remember whose you are and that he never, ever wastes what we give up to follow him.

My beloved brother died on September 23, just a day after his 58th birthday, after a five-year battle with cancer that was initially spotted growing in his neck and eventually took over his lungs and heart. Of course, my family is still experiencing deep grief. I told a dear older friend just days after his death that I think Jeff was everybody’s favorite, and in her typical quick observational wit, she replied, “Well, now’s your chance!”  

It’s been several months since the morning we said goodbye, but I want to introduce you to my brother. He was a ministry leader for Links Players International, an author, a father of three young men, a devoted husband to one of my best friends, and the kindest brother a girl could have. 

One of my earliest memories is that of curling up on my bed as Jeff sat next to me and read that great novel of American childhood,  Homer Price. It is a kind and loving 13-year-old who will do such a thing for his 6-year-old sister, but that is just the type of young man he was, and just the type of man he continued to be: gentle, patient, full of wry humor.

When I was a gangly and awkward 11-year-old, Jeff drove away to Redlands University for college. His leaving left a significant hole in my heart, and one might assume that a bright, ambitious 18-year-old would have not thought again of that little sister back at home, but he did, in the form of letters. The stack that sits on my desk, tied with an opaque ribbon, is a fraction of the letters he wrote to me from college: first from Redlands, then after his transfer to Biola University. This is the last paragraph of one of my favorites, dated 1984:

“I hope even more that you are learning how powerful God can be in our lives. There are so many times when I just want to be home or at camp, but God gives me the strength to hang in there, and he says, “I need you right where you are, Jeff.” So on I go. I hope to see you soon. I love you a whole lot. But even better, so does God.

Your bro,

Jeff”

We never again lived in the same city, our lives taking us in wildly different directions at times. And there was that seven-year age gap. But always, Jeff was a man of words. We read together, recommended books to each other, and both agreed and disagreed over who wrote best or which stories made the greatest impact on the world.

Often, I would post at midnight an article I'd written only to awake the next morning to a text from Jeff in which he corrected my grammar or pointed out a typo. He was my editor, but he was never my critic. His words to me were pleasant like a honeycomb: sweetness to the soul and health to the body. 

In my Bible study lesson this week, the opening question was posed, “If you knew that your time on earth was rapidly coming to an end, what message would you want to impart to those you love?” 

As the recipient of words that were foundational in the formation of my young faith, I humbly ask the same question: Who in your world needs to hear the life-giving words of the simple gospel of Jesus Christ? Who needs to hear, “I love you a whole lot. But even better, so does God”?

Jeff officiating at his son Reese’s wedding, May 2021

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This post was written a few months ago and has appeared on the New Growth Press blog as well as Key Life.

“Some people just seem to get a larger dose of suffering.” Ashley was sitting in the passenger seat as we drove away from a day in the city taking in a Frida Khalo exhibit, a little giddy about our brief reprieve from pandemic lockdowns. She was raised by an addict, one whose addiction would take her away from my friend just as she hit adulthood. Ashley has had plenty of her own suffering, much of it borne from a childhood of harshness and abandonment.

Later that evening I thought about what she said, weighing and measuring my own life. Unlike Ashley, my childhood was marked by happiness. Of course there was conflict, but there was also plenty of support and opportunity, and we never worried about a meal or who would drive us to baseball practice. The first half of my marriage was like that, too.

I couldn’t feel the suffering of others because I hadn’t really experienced it myself. God has given empaths that ability, but that was not me. I was blissfully unaware and honestly, I didn’t care. Easier to stick my head in the sand of my privilege.

And yet, “Some people seem to get a larger dose of suffering” could be the byline for the last decade-plus of our lives here:

-Our 7-week-old contracted a virus and lives with permanent brain damage

-I ran over our 5-year-old in our driveway. She survived but lives with debilitating anxiety

-Our 8-year-old’s appendix ruptured, sent her into septic shock, and landed her in the ICU for three weeks

-Our adult son saw his engagement blow up days before the wedding, marking a psychotic break that led to his bipolar diagnosis and adjusting to a life of mental health struggles

-We made what we believed was a wise and compassionate decision, but it was misunderstood by family and friends alike, starting panic attacks for me and uncharacteristic depression for my husband

-My husband was diagnosed with a nasal tumor that was precariously attached to his cribriform plate, between brain and nose. Surgery and post-care become our norm. As of this writing, the tumor is once again present, and surgery is once again scheduled

-Another adult son complained of a migraine, only to become unresponsive. He was diagnosed in the ER with a brain tumor that ruptured and required emergency surgery. He then contracted meningitis and was quarantined

-This week, my beloved brother has lost his five-year battle with cancer

It’s a lot.

After nearly two years of a pandemic that has thrown all of our lives into an agitated dither, many of us are suffering blow by blow by blow. How are we to face it? What can we do to allow Christ to work in us as we manage the day-to-day living that life continues to require of us, even in the midst of circumstances that threaten to knock us flat? I can offer a few things to consider:

1. There is no wrong way to do this. Take a bath or don’t. Turn off the TV or don’t. Make space in your life to say no to what you don’t need and yes to what you do.
2. Remember that rarely do others understand what you need. Show them grace.
3. People also don’t know what to say. Show them grace.
4. Sometimes showing people grace means asking them to give you space. 

You can also recognize that what you are experiencing is suffering. Go ahead and name it so. Tell God how blindsided/stunned/frustrated/angry/devastated you are, because we cannot act as if he doesn’t already know. If we are at all familiar with the Bible, we have to admit that Christ came for the suffering and to suffer himself on our behalf. It is this suffering life to which we are called, but we cannot embrace its grace until we recognize that the Bible, Christ’s life, and ours in discipleship is a life called to pain and brokenness. God triumphs, though. This earth isn’t heaven.

Remember what I wrote earlier about not being able to feel the suffering of others because I hadn’t experienced suffering myself? You might be able to relate to that. It’s okay. We won’t always know what to say or do to help, but we can certainly grieve with those who grieve. 

Do you find yourself unsure of what to do or say? How can you help someone who is suffering blow by blow by blow?

-Be gentle.
-Offer a listening ear.
-Send a note of encouragement.
-Send a meal.
-Don’t expect them to do what you think they should.
-Allow them to deal with their suffering in the way that is best for them, and only intervene if you sense danger.

The beautiful truth about suffering is that when we are experiencing the shattering of our expectations, God meets us right in the midst of every bit of it. The Bible has much to say about our troubles and tribulations, but it does not leave us stranded there. We have the hope of the living God who lovingly lets us know, “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” 1 Peter 5:10, CSB

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Let’s not talk about what a difficult year this has been. Instead, let’s recall how difficult life and choices often were before we hit pandemics and political issues. Our trials and challenges serve to amplify our discomfort and can be an impetus for personal change, and in that way, both the pandemic and the politics have been useful.

What if the church no longer meets your needs? For many Christians in America, this is a valid and timely question. You and I both know the variables that lead to believing the church can’t be what it needs to be anymore, so, in order to shed light on a path forward, I’ve identified four points on which to reflect.

Identify your needs.

Are your perceived needs something that are truly needed for spiritual growth, health, clarity, or rest?

It is an auspicious practice to identify and clarify what our actual needs may be. Keep in mind that what you may need in this season is potentially not a necessity for your spouse, children, or others with whom you are in a close relationship. If 30 years of marriage have taught me anything, it’s that my needs are rarely in sync with those in my close circle and that sometimes I extend myself for them and at other times, they have extended themselves for me.

Ask yourself honest questions.

Are my perceived needs really just preferences or desires? For example, a basic human need is readily accessible and healthy food, while a preference or desire is grilled chicken and a chocolate shake.

Can these needs be met by the people in your life? The people in your church? Our deep inner needs aren't met by people. God often uses people as a conduit to providing what we need, but people are not the ultimate provisioner. Are we expecting people to do what only God can?

The truth is, Jesus Christ is the place to start. The gospel meets the felt need. God himself ultimately satisfies the longing. If we’re just missing what we have always had in our western churches (i.e., cultural church paradigms as opposed to worship however God provides it for us), then we’re really longing for grilled chicken and chocolate shakes, not readily accessible and healthy food.

Provide yourself with honest answers.

So, of course, it follows that if I'm looking to my church to meet my needs, I will not get the answers to my questions. If I'm expecting Jesus to meet my needs instead, I will find a path to deep, lasting change and fulfillment. That line of thinking leads to perhaps a more complex conundrum with which we must wrestle: Do I believe that “my God shall supply all my needs according to his riches in glory?”

The Philippian church was encouraged to understand that their way of doing church wasn’t the answer, their church people weren’t the answer, their orthodoxy, orthopraxy, and theology weren’t the answer. Only God—God alone—would meet their needs. Certainly, Paul knew this personally as he wrote his letter to that church from a prison cell.

Be pliable.

What if God means to meet our needs in ways we never could have anticipated?

If you've been a follower of Jesus Christ for any amount of significant time, you might assume I'm being ironic. Because it's true, isn't it? Just remove the question mark: God means to meet our needs in ways we never could have anticipated. And then go ask anyone who has ever had to “do church” in a way that doesn’t look like America.

Pliability as it relates to church choices and life may mean you’re being led away from what you’ve always known to be church. And what if that change means you are about to find out what the fullness of following Jesus really looks like?

My story of church life and culture may be different from yours in setting, characters, arc, and plot. I did the math recently and realized that the church I’ve been a part of for the past decade is the 17th church I’ve been involved in over the course of my life. 17th! That exposure to many different church norms might be very different from your experience.

Still, there is some reason you have had to drop your expectations for church, and it can no longer meet your needs at this time. Christian, this is more than okay. It is acceptable and right and may be exactly what God has for you in this moment. Can you identify your real need and allow God to do his work?

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Someone wise once told me, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I bet someone wise once told you that, too. Therein lies the conundrum that has been my writing life in the year 2020: I just haven’t had a whole lot of anything nice to say.

That’s not the whole truth, though, because my brain houses more introductory paragraphs than I can reasonably catalog. The truth has more to do with the fact that what I have to say—nice or otherwise—seems insignificant. Boy, aren’t you just dying to hear what I have to say now?

For the most part, my observations of this year and this spiritual path and of life in general are being written by other, shinier authors. People with broader audiences and lovelier platforms. I actually began writing a new book several years ago that I was absolutely certain God had whispered in my ear only to have it rejected by my previous publisher. They probably knew then what I did not yet: a big-name gal with books in her wake debuted a big-name book on the exact same topic a few months after I submitted mine to the publishing house.

I wonder, then, in a world filled with platforms for the taking, why it matters what I have to say.

This is false, actually. This line of thinking that tells me my voice doesn’t matter because it only reaches a few who want to hear it is the product of a country and culture that produces industries that revere the words of some and ignore the words of others, simply because there is a bottom line to keep an eye on. And it’s false.

It’s false because some of the well-known people we listen to aren’t saying anything new. It’s false because we think they have more important things to say because they are attractive and trendy or loud and powerful. It’s false because it ignores the call that God has whispered into the ears of those who may only have one person who cares what they say. That one person matters, as does the passion and drive God has given to the author.

Turns out, I do have something nice to say, and maybe you’re the one who needs to hear it today. You matter. Your call, your passion, your skills, your strengths, your talents—it all matters.

History is stacked with the stories of those who lived and died in obscurity, only to have their works resurrected and revered for centuries well beyond their own lifetimes. We who love books and words would be bereft without the prose of Emily Dickinson, but of the nearly 1800 poems she wrote, fewer than a dozen were actually published during her lifetime. We can hardly say her writing didn’t matter.

Henry David Thoreau, Johann Sebastian Bach, Franz Kafka, Herman Melville, Edgar Allen Poe . . . their works were profound and larger than life, but they weren’t deemed significant enough to make a mark during their own lifetimes. Stories like these always make me pause and consider the weight of my own words. Who might stand to gain if I open my mouth or get the introductory paragraphs out of my brain and into the world?

Who might need to hear your words or music, your passion to help the disenfranchised, your soothing compassion, your comforting or innovative cooking, your brilliant brainstorming, your splashes of color and form?

What we are called to matters in years of despair and years of celebration. Maybe just one ear will hear our truths, but we cannot say that the one ear doesn’t matter.

Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. Matthew 10:31

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