by Julie Riddle I miss Laura Bloxham. She died in November 2019, and even though she had coped with significant health issues for years, her
A note from Rock & Sling: Jason Mehl’s essay “Ears to Hear” appears in Rock & Sling 13.1. You can read the essay here. By
by Karen Bjork Kubin I wish you could have seen the look on his face, walking home from school. I wish you could carry it
Even being constantly surrounded by people for the majority of the weekend, the whole experience felt rejuvenating rather than draining. Everyone at the conference was wonderfully friendly and absolutely thrilled to have yet another conversation about books or poetry or the super awesome panel they had just seen.
AWP is full of amazing treasures, interesting people, and SO. MANY. BOOKS. But traveling from one corner of the country to another can lead to a cultural shock, so I’m here to help the fellow PNWers cope with these possibly terrifying changes.
So, of course, AWP this year was slightly different. This year I not only knew what to expect, but could walk past the tables and mutter to myself, “Ah! It’s that journal, so glad to see them here. Wonder if they are still…” or “I have to find this journal. I saw it while researching and it looks beautiful!” Whatever the utterances, I no longer felt like an uneducated impersonator in the sea of writers, editors, and publishers.
Why is this moment not enough, without the need to share? Do I just want to brag, or is there a good-hearted motivation there too? What am I so afraid of, that I can’t refrain from sharing?
While traditional theology can sometimes err on the side of trying to make everything fit neatly into familiar philosophical boxes, Theopoetics aims to look directly into the mystery of God and to leave space for wonder.
What can I offer them? What can I write to them when their fears and questions—along with mine—are so loud in our ears?
by Karissa Knox Sorrell A couple of months ago, I went to a funeral. It was for a woman named Joyce whose husband had been
by Cara Strickland I am the last person you might expect to see at a music festival. Although I’m a lover of live music, that
by Sunni Brown Wilkinson When the Spanish poet Antonio Machado fled Spain during that country’s civil war, he crossed the Pyrenees in an old car
by Jackie Wallace When I was seventeen, I read a book called Paper Towns, by John Green. You may have heard of it due to
by Sunni Brown Wilkinson The care center smelled on par with all the others I’d ever been in: musty and antiseptic with a passing breeze
by T.J. Pancake “Any dog under fifty pounds is a cat, and cats are pointless.” – Ron Swanson It seems that in the world of
by Karissa Knox Sorrell In his poem “Ode to the Unbroken World, Which is Coming,” Thomas Lux wrote: It must be coming, mustn’t it? Churches
by Amy Hendricks What makes someone kind? Do they wear fuzzy sweaters and bake chocolate chip cookies all year round? Do they help you move
by Doug Sugano In my mind, this post is about a red hoodie. You may disagree, but it’s my post. My wife, Linda, and I
by Leah Silvieus In Xoxocotlán Cemetery tonight, the night before El Día De Los Muertos, life and death sit vigil together: families picnic while setting
by Tania Runyan Last weekend the “if-I-were-to-get-a-tattoo” topic came up again, this time among members of the church worship team, many of whom sport whirling
by Megan Hershey The first time I saw a Brio magazine was during a sleep-over at my friend Jolynn’s house. I was 12 and the magazine felt
by Kathryn Smith First, Marion insists I take her peaches. A few weeks later, the pears start falling, and Meredith and Blake hand me bags
by Laura Reber Her prophecy seemed a bit dramatic, but I noted it in my journal anyway, as Lord knows I needed some help with
by Ryan Stevens The word “twitter” used to exist exclusively as a playful way to describe the series of high pitched sounds created by a
by Jacquelyn Barnes I live in the collision between slowing down and being ambitious, between experiencing and interpreting, where freedom meets commitment. I believe in
by Heather Caliri I was a junior in college when my Bible study leader, Tina, recommended that I memorize Scripture. She pulled out a card
by Liz Mitchell One of my favorite authors, Wendell Berry, said, “The impeded stream is the one that sings.” I’ve been thinking about the dimensions
by Polly Hollar Pauley On my son’s seventh birthday this summer, we breakfasted out, per his request, and then spent five hours at a local
by Caroline J. Simon I sit cross-legged on the ground by the lake at Oxbow, painting the stump in front of me. I capture the
by Corey Zalewski I slept in the middle most nights, Jeff on my left and Monte on my right. This night was no different until
by Ryan Stevens This year saw the launch of Microsoft’s Xbox One and Sony’s Playstation4, which have currently sold a combined total of over 13
by Pierrette Stukes These two teenage, giggling girls kept appearing before me. In the ticket line, as my husband and I bought our movie passes,
by Liz Mitchell What if I told you the word revival is not as musty as we once thought? What if the word revival is
by Karissa Knox Sorrell I walked down to the church kitchen to make a cup of instant coffee, piling in sugar and chalky powdered cream.
by Patrice Gopo I. Spin, I hear my thoughts say. Spin. And so I do. My right foot steps away from my left, and I am
by Heather Caliri Dear Ants, I swore I wouldn’t use poison. The kids, you know? Also, the smell of the spray gives me the heebie-jeebies.
by Katherine Karr-Cornejo Every four years I’m drawn back in to something that I love that makes me feel ecstatic and heartbroken. There’s an emotional
by Emily Dufault My first, or maybe second, tattoo; I’m not quite sure. Softly flowing letters, paz, the Spanish word for peace, a little dove
by Annie Stillar Dear Callie, Happy birthday. This is your auntie. You have several, but I’m the funny one. I love fish tacos and eyebrow
by Rafaela Acevedo-Field Between the UC Santa Barbara shootings and the passing of Maya Angelou, these past few days have been tough. When I read about Maya
by Kelli Hennessey I have always been heavy. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t extremely aware of the limits of my body. I
by Lauren Michelle Major Have you ever walked in church alone? Have you paced the aisles of pews in the dark, walked the back hallways,
by Katrina J. Daroff A soggy leaf smacked across my face, leaving a trail of dirt on my cheek. I would have to wash my
by Nicole Sheets I grew up in a church that prized certainty. Faith, I was told, was based on facts, not feelings. If you knew
by Amanda C. R. Clark, Ph.D. In the Sant’Ignazio di Loyola church in Rome, entire walls are wreathed with relics in a macabre tapestry. Stretching
Kaitlin Schmidt “Hi! Have you heard of Rock & Sling?” This is the inane question I started with as I stood at our booth, a
by Harmony Button One Sunday morning, my brother and I woke up early and, while our parents were still asleep, we changed all the clocks
by the Rev. Liv Larson Andrews Advent is here. For most, however, these weeks of December are not a separate season but are already Christmas.
by Patricia Bruininks Hope. Peace. Joy. These words are ubiquitous this time of year. Their meaning is fundamental to the story of Christ’s birth, and they
by Judith Shadford My response to running water is instinctive, right up there with my response to Wagner, Rachmaninoff, Charles Villiers Stanford, Harry Potter, David
by Maggie Montague Shalom was how my grandfather greeted us as my family was ushered through the door of his 300 square foot apartment in
by Katie Cunningham Left, left The plans are to meet at the Bon Odori at 2:00. This is a soft time: when your uncle
by Mackenna Kuehl Instructions: Remember to set your alarm for 6:15 am, the exact time when you need to go and wake your mother up.
by the Rev. Martin Elfert The scar runs up my forehead, starting just above my right eyebrow. Perhaps half an inch wide at the bottom,
by Jenny Brown For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you
by Kellan Day Go my children with my blessing, never alone. Waking, sleeping, I am with you; You are my own. This one line of
by Gregg Brekke Listening has consequences. A number of years ago, I was teaching in Micronesia. One day, Noah, the principal of our high school,
by Katherine Karr-Cornejo When I mention to people that I’m assigning a science fiction novel to read in a course I’ll be teaching soon, I
by Erica Salkin This summer, I had the privilege of attending the wedding of one of my husband’s co-workers. The ceremony was held at one
by Gregg Brekke We tend to think that popular people such as Peter Jennings and Justin Bieber are friendly, international-border crossers. We ignore the OH
by Erika Koss During a 2003 interview, Baz Luhrmann’s motives were questioned for bringing Puccini’s celebrated opera La Boheme to Broadway. The director answered straightforwardly:
by Erika Koss “I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.” American fiction is rife with characters who
by Tracy Simmons It’s faded now, often covered by socks or pant legs. What was once a symbol of pride has now become a branding,
by Erika Koss This was the question my friends and I asked, repeatedly, back in 1990, when we were required to read The Great Gatsby
by Alicia Peebles Less Sometimes I dreamed of myself as Puerto Rican, sometimes Native American, sometimes Japanese. It depended on the friends that I made.
by Jackie Wallace My dad has this library. It’s mostly history books, and books on various religions. He has a whole corner of the room
by Pierrette Rouleau Stukes “Are you a believer?” the veterinarian asked. My one hundred and two pound Labrador, Jack, strained and wiggled against his prong collar.
by Matthew Burns At the small rural school where I’ve been teaching for almost two years, I’ve apparently managed to become known within student circles
by John A. Taylor I was sitting with Thom, our managing editor, watching a hipster specimen meander through the rows of booths near our table,
by Ann Huston The first poem I remember writing happened in the middle of church on a Sunday morning. I was in elementary school, and
by Jacquelyn Wheeler I was at Grandie and Poppa’s house, its weird guest room with the rainbow bed spread, the baseball lamp, the plaques on
By Amy C. Rice Networking is such a boring word. I am not saying networking isn’t useful or important, but the word itself does not
by Kathryn Smith “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. As soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know
