carameredith.com

A couple of months ago, I received an invitation to start blogging at Patheos, which is “the premier online destination to engage in the global dialogue about religion and spirituality, and to explore and experience the world’s beliefs. Patheos hosts a number of different bloggers of all different religions, and along with a new crew of diverse thinkers, creatives and writers, I’m delighted to also be a storyteller on the new General Christian channel. I’m now over there every Tuesday and Friday, telling stories, introducing you to different writers (and their books), and learning to color outside the lines – which is perhaps the most exciting part of it all. But the biggest change you’ll soon experience is that when you click on the “blog” button, you’ll head directly to my Patheos site.

And I’m saying this out loud because I don’t think I’m the only one – in fact Field Guides for the Way are seasonal spiritual practice kits delivered to your home. Field Guides for the Way invite the integration of our knowledge into lived practice through tactile, creative spiritual practices rooted in the Christian tradition. Each kit will contain materials for a creative, contemplative journey: reflection prompts, stories, poems, instructions and supplies for practices, and tangible reminders of God’s love for you.

Although summer reading generally douses me in a shower of fiction, I still have to start my morning with some sort of centering book, which for me is a book generally found under the umbrella of faith. Her memoir surprised me: it wasn’t as snarky as I thought it’d be, but instead, it erred on the side of story – and let’s just be honest, the one thing you can’t argue with is someone else’s story, especially if a tale of redemption shines through the darkest corners. you’ve heard of Brown’s new book, because who hasn’t heard of Brown’s new book? just made for the lazy, hazy days of summer (and let me clarify, the following books are not themselves lazy and hazy – but each one works just fine for those lazy, hazy summer days.

A week or so after the trip I preached at our little Episcopal church, a place that has enveloped me in new seasons of faith, whose people have become my people in the most holy and ordinary of ways. I listened to stories of border patrol agents and then, just a couple of hours later, to the stories of men and women who’d been deported for overstaying their welcome in a country they’d called home for decades, in the nation where they’d served in the armed forces, in the place where they’d raised their children. Here, holy interruptions reign: when parents are separated from children, when thousands still aren’t reunified, when the Supreme Court upholds bans of religious discrimination to our Muslim brothers and sisters. Today, I’m clinging to holy interruptions, mostly because it’s the only thing I’ve got.