rift
A tear in the fabric—where reality bends and the unexpected slips through.
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Why Pronouns Matter
Pronouns are not grammar; they’re grace—naming presence, offering dignity, and honouring each person as they truly are. Continue reading
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Carried—Blessings for Those Who Hold and Are Held
In clinical spaces, care often moves quietly—through gestures, glances, and the steady presence of those who stay. Carried is a page of blessings and thanksgivings written for nurses, patients, chaplains, carers, and companions. It honours the unseen labour of tending, the grace of being tended to, and the sacred rhythm of mutual care. Whether offered Continue reading
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Grit. Grace. Gasp.
When grace feels like a stretch and humour slips into prayer, what do we offer? A reflection on the quiet courage of showing up—even when the heart flinches. Continue reading
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Rooted, Called, Carried
Named in Zion: Breath, Burden, and Benediction Psalm 87 sings of belonging—not by birthright or geography alone, but by divine declaration. “This one was born there,” says the Lord, naming outsiders as insiders, strangers as citizens of Zion. For those of us whose bodies mark us as different—whose rhythms are shaped by dialysis machines or Continue reading
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Worship. Not Warfare.
Militarised Christianity undermines democracy. True discipleship forms citizens through worship, conscience and compassion—not drills, ranks or recruitment. The Church serves best without an army. Continue reading
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In the Wake of Fire: A Reflection from an Irish Anglican
I am heartbroken to hear of the fire at the mosque in England, coming so soon after the attack on the synagogue in Manchester. These are not just buildings—they are homes of prayer, of memory, of community. To see them harmed is to feel the ache of something sacred being violated. As an autistic Anglican Continue reading
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Faithful in exile
Grief, grace, and quiet endurance in the margins of scripture and life Reflection on the Sunday readings. Jerusalem sits empty. The psalmist weeps by foreign waters. Timothy is urged to rekindle a gift that feels fragile. The apostles beg for more faith, and Jesus answers with a story about a servant doing what is asked, Continue reading
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Jesus Loves Me—And That Changes Everything
A reflection from an Irish Anglican autistic perspective on love, memory, and belonging “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” We sang it every week in Sunday School, small voices piping through the church hall, surrounded by crayons, juice cartons, and the gentle chaos of kindergarten faith. I don’t remember Continue reading
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Called and Consecrated
Re-reading St Paul and Honouring Women’s Ministry in the Anglican Tradition In the hush of a Friday afternoon, with the Psalms still resonating from morning prayer and the Irish light softening the edges of the day, I return to St Paul’s words in 1 Timothy 2:11–12: “Let a woman learn in silence with full submission. Continue reading
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Angels in the Corners
A Neurodivergent Reflection for the Festival of St Michael and All Angels There are moments when the veil feels thin—when the ordinary becomes infused with something luminous. Years ago, during an aromatherapy massage in Belfast, I found myself in one of those moments. The room was quiet, the scent of lavender and bergamot hung in Continue reading
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