Captain Reverend Mother

  • We Were Here

    We Were Here

    A week in England with family, football dreams, royal rooms, old buildings, and the British Museum opens into a reflection on history past and present, the close of Lent, and what it means to say we were here.

  • Carrying Home

    Carrying Home

    After five months of silence and an overseas move, Naples speaks through pizza, language lessons, lava stone streets, and a turtle carrying home on its back.

  • Ithaca, Again: Landing at the Launch

    Ithaca, Again: Landing at the Launch

    Forty years after high school, I walk the same halls that once sent me into the world. Time folds in on itself, and home remembers what we forget.

  • Hairspray and Hashtags: High School Then and Now

    Hairspray and Hashtags: High School Then and Now

    My son heads to his first homecoming while I prepare for my 40th reunion. High school shapes us all, though the marks it leaves look different across generations.

  • When Hope Feels Impossible

    When Hope Feels Impossible

    From bones at Solferino to smoke over the Pentagon to seventy years of marriage, this essay wrestles with cruelty, grief, and the persistence of hope.

  • The Sweaty Guy Always Finds Me

    The Sweaty Guy Always Finds Me

    From the yoga mat to the grocery line, small torments test our patience daily. This reflection weaves humor and Psalm 51 into a reminder that even petty frustrations can open us to a clean heart.

  • Four Minutes, Fifteen Years

    Four Minutes, Fifteen Years

    From a Sunday night concert without dance partners to Monday’s high school registration to Tuesday’s OR vigil, three quiet days reveal the thresholds of parenthood and the way of everything.

  • My Body, the Heretic

    My Body, the Heretic

    A reverent, raw reflection on embodiment and the long, defiant journey of a body that refuses to quit.

  • The Cheesecake Bag & The Weight of Maybe

    The Cheesecake Bag & The Weight of Maybe

    Twenty-five years of cords, chargers, and backup plans—all gone in one trip to Goodwill. Clearing the drawer becomes a quiet reflection on readiness, release, and the kind of faith that makes room for what is still to come.

  • Off the News. On the Ground.

    Off the News. On the Ground.

    I stepped away from the news nearly thirty years ago, out of survival. This is the story of what I found instead: presence, quiet grace, and the slow tending of what matters most.