I desperately need for not one more presidential term, one more year, one more month, one more sermon, one more day to go by without the country and the church—filled with good, smart, and compassionate people—getting more creative about gun control. I desperately need for this litany to never be used by another community, another soul, ever again.
It’s been a long road, and it’s not over, though it does seem to be changing. And we felt we couldn’t let this moment pass without marking it together in some way.
But this little plot of land, where my son swings from oak branches beside the bayou . . . where we make mashed potatoes for three instead of twenty-three . . . where I call home . . . is much more than just a settler's trophy. We live in Caddo territory, or so it was before the Treaty of Cession of 1835.
You don't need me to tell you that Mother's Day is complicated for many. A two-second pause to contemplate the people in your life for whom the holiday might be painful would yield evidence enough that the day ...