Head Upon a Stone

(Midweek Meditation September 2024) Fingers of mist hang in the hollows. The orange orb of the sun is edging above South Mountain. Sam, Chic...

Thirty years ago this month I first crossed the threshold of Goose Creek and began my journey with Quakerism. I was a young mother of two li...

I recently came across a story about a good man deeply embedded in his Here (my birth country of Zimbabwe) and the particular Now of that la...

I come from a family that for generations has been on the move. My great grandfather, Benjamin Cheney, a shoemaker by trade, migrated in the...

Pinned above my desk are these words:  “To be simple is to fix one’s eye solely on the simple truth of God at a time when all concepts are b...

I have just returned from a retreat at Pendle Hill where we spent a lot of time identifying our own and each other’s gifts with a view to ...

My husband, the senior warden at the local Episcopal church, enjoys twitting me on certain aspects of Quakerism. Why, he asks, drive an hour...