I attend church on Sunday mornings. Some people wouldn’t call it church but I do. I understand the objection, the confusion or disagreement with my unorthodox belief, also in...
Last Sunday morning I had one of those ‘What would Jesus do?’ moments. I’m not talking about the Jesus that’s been hi-jacked by politics and manipulated to suit a whole...
As far back as I can remember, I wrote. Private young-girl thoughts in secret diaries, then poetry filled with teenage angst and dark poetry peppered with profanity. I wrote daily letters to God in Hilroy notebooks, short stories and poems for kids, sad country songs, and raw truth-telling stories about life growing up in a blue-collar neighbourhood in Northwestern Ontario. These are those stories and poems.
