by Emily Wierenga | Aug 27, 2012 | canada, church, closes, coffee, coffeeshop, community, crusades, damage, david platt, faith, food bank, friendship, Jesus, poor, poverty, radical, sabbath, sunday, unity truth church, winnipeg
yes, i am a disgruntled pastor’s daughter who grew up going to church every sunday and begrudging it. the hours spent listening to a father she didn’t know and the small talk afterwards (which i still dislike), the feigned interest in weather and health... by Emily Wierenga | Jun 25, 2012 | a deeper story, children, crucifixion, death, Easter, God, hungry, hurting, Jesus, repentance, world
when i was a little girl in big plastic glasses and corduroy dresses, i would scrunch my eyes shut and imagine the crucifixion and try to feel the sadness i knew i was supposed to feel. i’d try to feel repentant but it was so much easier not to, because Jesus... by Emily Wierenga | May 11, 2012 | faith, feature posts, imperfect prose on thursdays, Jesus, life, love, meaning, purpose
“that’s where Jesus died,” Joey says, pointing to the hole in the paper he’s scribbled with markers. it looks like an orange and yellow explosion happened, like a daffodil was torn apart. “that’s where it’s all empty and... by Emily Wierenga | May 2, 2012 | belly buttons, children, church, community, family, God, humanity, imperfect prose on thursdays, Jesus, mothers
(guest host today: tara pohlkotte)”mama, why do we have these?” my son asks lifting his shirt and running a fingerover his belly button.i explained that through it mama was able to keep him fed, keep him growing,sustained life deep within.”but why do... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 30, 2012 | anne lamott, fear, Jesus, lilies, minister's daughter, tattoo
trent warns me before i leave for the city, “don’t get it if you sense the spirit telling you no.”i nod into the rearview, pray for courage to deny myself the ink, because it’s my mother’s day gift to myself. this tattoo designed by a... by Emily Wierenga | Apr 27, 2012 | bible, children, chocolate, Christ, feature posts, God, imperfect prose on thursdays, Jesus, love
sometimes it tastes like a hot cup of coffee while the boys watch backyardigans in ninja turtle pajamas. for my husband, love tastes like lime chips and homemade salsa, and for kasher, it tastes like breast-milk. but he is being weaned and so love will soon taste...