I initially posted this on Facebook and then my blog that no one reads (ha).  I thought I'd share it here.

 When I tell people I'm a Quaker, some of my friends ask me "What's Quaker?" The tendency is to go into history. We were colonizers who had a different but still problematic relationship with the Natives and who sought to establish a different, tolerant colony in the New World. I could point to how we differed on the holding of slaves but eventually came to…

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This was my reply to a post in Friendly Letter about recorded ministry.  Many think Friends don't have ministers but that's a modern development. We used to have them.  They weren't pastors but they did serve the meeting. The meeting had…

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So, lately I've been having troubling dreams.  Most of them involve past self-destructive behaviors and a lifestyle that I've chosen to leave behind.  Usually, upon awakening and starting my morning routine, I forget about the dreams.  Yesterday, however, the dreams triggered specific memories of people, places and things.  As I entered into a yoga posture during a yoga class, memories would be especially vivid and disconcerting.  Try as I might…

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I feel like I'm coming out of the closet again.  It's actually striking how similar this is to when I started admitting I was gay.  Here and there I would talk about "if" i were gay, or how maybe I'm bisexual.  I would hook up with someone and then rant against homosexuality in Friends Journal or in meeting.  Then I came out, blew the doors off the wall and no Quaker meeting in Greensboro was prepared. Though off topic, I think Friends meetings should very much consider how to be there for…

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Hi Friends

Well our small worship group that started over a year ago as a monthly fellowship is now twice-monthly and we're looking at moving to an old meeting house that is currently operated by a community organization. If that happens, our name will change. We are hoping to also find a meeting to take us under their care. It's very exciting. www.setonhillfriends.org

We were all driving up Paca Street, just about to turn the corner onto Druid Hill Ave. Destination: home. It was a gorgeous, sunny spring day. All the sounds of the city, the klaxons of impatient drivers, the sirens of cops and firefighters rushing off to help victims or put out fires, real, figurative or just perceived. Of course, with me in the car, the topic of religion arose, the context of which I don't remember. What I do recall, as we turned right onto my street, cherry blossoms blowing… Continue