Author Archives: Rosalind C Hughes

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About Rosalind C Hughes

Rosalind C Hughes is an Episcopal priest, poet, and author living near the shores of Lake Erie. After growing up in England and Wales, and living briefly in Singapore, she is now settled in Ohio. Rosalind is the author of A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longing , and Whom Shall I Fear? Urgent Questions for Christians in an Age of Violence, both from Upper Room Books. She loves the lake, misses the ocean, and is finally coming to terms with snow.

The ghosting of a marriage

There are things they forget to tell you about being married. They advise you not to go to bed angry, to be kind, attentive, grateful, to say seven nice things every day. They may tell you to keep communications open … Continue reading

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Blessings and challenges

When I read this Sunday’s Gospel lesson, and saw that Paul’s – let’s be honest – somewhat cringeworthy letter to Philemon was also up for consideration, I wondered if I might have waited on this new, lectionary-based blessings project until … Continue reading

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The banquet

No sermon this Sunday, simply the observation that today’s Gospel whispered to me of those times that you have slipped into the back of the church, trying to melt into the shadows cast by the dark-wood pews, sure only of … Continue reading

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Untethered

There’s a man standing in the lake  on his phone. From my seat between a mallard duck and the old tyre, I watch him, waist deep, cradling his elbow firm against the rock of the waves, watch the clouds scud … Continue reading

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God bless you and keep you

There is a moment towards the end of the Holy Eucharist service in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer where The Bishop when present, or the Priest, may bless the people. For special services – the Thanksgiving for a Child, … Continue reading

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Facing God

All that the leader of the synagogue really needed to do, was to say, “Amen.” Continue reading

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Overwhelming

I am considering the word “overwhelmed.” I cannot unsee the news photography: cars sinking, dramatic rescues, coffins floating down streets overwhelmed by the Flood; an airbag deployed, overspilling its plastic cage, overwhelming the object of its zealous protection; she is … Continue reading

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Off centre

The hedgerow maze boxes me in, walls me out through another false turn. In the centre hides perfection, unbreakable cypher, impassive God. Out in the margins of error, the elbow crook of one more dead end, lies Jesus, sprawled as though we … Continue reading

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The cross and the lightning rod

It is not the purpose of the lightning rod to be destroyed by the storm. Continue reading

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August

The cicadas are praising God incessantly; while my last frayed nerve curls with the rising humidity, they sing, and play their tiny violins, an orchestra of prayer. I would join them, but my soul is having a bad hair day, refuses … Continue reading

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