My name is Emily. I used to wish my parents had named me Aurora Borealis, because Emily was so plain, so solid, so milk-pail and apron. Aurora Borealis, that was the name for me! On the other hand, if they had named me Aurora Borealis, I probably would have become the milk-pail-and-apron type, who abhorred her stupid hippie name. Which just goes to show you: I am a hard person to please.
I began this blog several years ago when I was going through a phase of being really jazzed about Orthodox Christianity, which I was exploring and to which I eventually converted. Several years later, I stopped going to church and I felt weird and bad about it. Now, I look at those years as a stop along the way. An oasis, as it were.
When you grow up Southern-Baptist, you’re taught (inadvertently or otherwise) to view God as a big, middle-aged white dude with a La-Z-Boy made of clouds. He has a fluffy beard and a forbidding disposition. Although viewing God in this way is unhelpful and problematic, it’s also a hard habit to break. Who and what is God, anyway? This blog is a chronicle of my attempts to move beyond the pronouns, the jargon — and that infernal Santa Claus beard.
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