About this Book: |
|
...We put prison bars around her, And high tiled walls, So we could not see The peroxide hooker cry And spit upon us In grief turned to fury And pain turned to hate. We nailed her to our public cross And shaking our heads, Tutting her sin, We left the hooker....
|
Book Review: |
|
What you do is, you tuck this little book under your arm and go find yourself a quiet place and open these pages and let Edwina take you into her sacred spaces. The pages are filled with Adirondack chairs, deep forests, scurrying creatures, seeds bearing fruit, not so much from our talents but from the dark space in us where God takes root (a lot about the dark) and silence and waiting, and, of course, Edwina's trademark, the dance, quickened in us over and over by a "warm, moist, salty God." Edwina makes me glad to be a woman. I love her and everything she stands for and strives for. She's a little crazy (like me). She makes me laugh. Her spirit is in these pages. Give your thirsty soul a treat.
Sister Helen Prejean, author of "Dead Man Walking"
|