“Do you want seven children?” A few months ago, I stopped by my parents’ church and sipped a coffee while listening to a rather scattered sermon. (Not that I’m complaining—attention-deficit pastors are my *favorite*, because I love watching how their
My first encounter with missionaries—like that of so many children—involved presents. A Christmas bauble from Burkina Faso, given out to each child at a small church in Ohio. A stick of Juicy Fruit from the American woman in a burqa,
I’ve been attending informal painting classes at the university for about twelve weeks now. It’s been a great opportunity to relax and get to know some of the women living on campus, many of whom are expat wives. Oh yes.
My classmate Katie* comes from a working-class, rural background. She works three jobs plus goes to school; she has a busy family, disabled mother, and absent father. And recently, I overheard her talking on the phone: “I want to be