In this life, we are constantly forming, taking new shape, undergoing minute transformation.
This Substack started in obscurity with little direction other than an urge to write about the questions and thoughts that plagued my soul. Initially these essays were housed under a different name. But after 12 months, I decided a renewal of sorts was necessary and changed the name from The Bread Box to Wild + Waste, which stems from the Hebrew phrase tohu wa-bohu found in the creation story—before anything was created when whatever existed was void, without form, wild and waste.
In this life, we are constantly forming, taking new shape, undergoing minute transformation. Inevitably, we will find ourselves in the wilderness, sometimes for prolonged periods. I’m writing for those who have felt the pang of disbelief, whose certainties have crumbled, who are left feeling void and unformed. But even in the unforming, in the undoing of so much belief, we are being formed anew. We are wild + waste, awaiting the new birth of creation, bursting with mystery, divinely loved, with goodness radiating from our marrow. Not the goodness of perfection, but the goodness of existence.
Our existence matters to God; our questions are not sending us to hell. They’re leading us to truth, further into mystery but deeper into hope. This is why I write. Words and conversations and experiences and interactions and geography matters in our own spiritual formation. We are all prodigals in our own ways. We are all wanderers. And we can all be found.