Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
I spent last Sunday at the hospital. I woke up with back pain so bad I could barely manage to get out of bed. When I did, after complicated gymnastics that would have been hilarious if they hadn’t hurt so bad, I almost blacked out. After calling 911, I couldn’t even manage to be charming
“There are no perfect people. There are no perfect projects. We are not measured against perfection, only called to do what we can, to set out on an exploration to an imagined destination, an imagined good. So forget about the fear, forget about the guilt, forget about the fact that the doorway makes no promises.
For half my life, I believed that women should not speak from a pulpit. Of course we were equal to men, but we were also different. Different in a way that meant we probably should seek other avenues for influence. We were more a reflection of God’s beauty and a little less his [God was
One of my favourite things in Colombia was feeling like I had a superpower to make people talk to me every time I walked down the street. I would say hi to every person I passed, old or young, and they would respond back, socially obligated to return the greeting. In reality, it was less
“So let us look for beauty and grace, for love and friendship, for that which is creative and birth-giving and soul-stretching. Let us dare to laugh at ourselves, healthy, affirmative laughter. Only when we take ourselves lightly can we take ourselves seriously, so that we are given the courage to say, “Yes! I dare disturb
I come from a long line of freezer people. We save and we store and we plan and we work. Growing up, every Sunday after church, we would go to the grocery store to buy food on sale to put into the freezer. After a Saturday bake day, we would stick loaves of bread and
Note: Edited on Feb 10th due to helpful reader response, including removing the reference to Ghandi due to some increased yelling at schools as part of protest behaviour. Keep the feedback coming! I have a sign from MCC’s migrant welcome campaign in my window: “No matter where you are from, we’re glad you are our
We are so tired. We are tired of hard conversations, of finding nuance, of the equal parts angst and adrenaline that fill our bloodstreams when we pick up our phones. We are tired of trying to find that impossible balance between calling out injustice and maintaining relationships. We want to attend potlucks and go dancing
I went to sleep and woke up to the sounds of honking horns. As the sun set last night, an airplane with a banner reading “mandate freedom” flew past my window. The city is filled with more beards and coveralls than I have ever seen in Ottawa. Canada flags attached to hockey sticks are everywhere.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.Just keep going. No feeling is final.Don’t let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life.You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand. –Rainer Maria Rilke On July 9, 2011, two armed men shot Facundo Cabral in Guatemala City. I had been in Colombia
Anna L. Vogt 