THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks of paradoxes, it hosts both: blood and light. I see myself, and ask would God really want such a one as I? Yet here I stand, my silver cross a bridge between Moab's abundance and Bethlehem's dust. RUTH'S EXODUS Like Ruth, I leave the certainties of Moab. Yes, there was bread there, but of the kind that empties my hungry soul. So often when I reference God in consecrated spaces, hands are shaken, brows are furrowed. Time after time, when I brought...