TOMORROW this book will be officially “launched!”
But launch it is, and launch puts me in a headspace of wondering where this will land. I can’t begin to predict where, but I’m hoping that it will land in the hands of someone who’s feeling disconnected from their body.
I’m hoping it will land on nightstands in nurseries, where weary parents are trying to figure out how to do the hard work of caring for a child while holding on to themselves.
I’m hoping it will land in the hands of curious guys who aren’t sure whether this is meant for them.
I hope it lands with grace, for all the things I got wrong, all the things I missed or left out, all the people who still don’t find themselves within its pages. I hope it can land with an invitation, when that’s the case, to pick up a pen and keep writing until we can all find our way to each other.
I hope when it lands it effectively provides people a permission slip to be whoever they are when they know they are deeply loved, and that their experience matters and tells us something of God and each other.
And I hope it can land in all the places that I’m not big enough or wise enough to imagine.
If you know of a place where this book needs to land – where we need to take time thinking about the wonder of God, or take time to name the places where we’ve been asked to shrink in order to fit the church’s definition of “mother” or “person” or “pastor” or “child of God,” or
find new and challenging ways to think about the work of the Church and our call in communion – I hope you’ll help this book land there.