There is this thing that bodies do:
Some do it less than we would like,
Some do it more than is helpful,
And maybe there are a handful out there who do it just right,

There is this thing that bodies do,
Which is to hold feelings at bay
Until it is safe to feel them.

Last week my parents in Oklahoma got their Covid-19 vaccines
And sent me a secret selfie, though photos weren’t allowed.

I shocked myself with weeping, when the message came through, Sobs so wracking I can feel the echo of them In my chest right…


Royalty free image from Unsplash

In the fourth quarter of his life,
which is to say, as long as I knew him,
my Grandfather was obsessed
with following the literature on how to live longer.

He would try any method with enough gravitas behind it,
and funny enough,
(by which I mean of course,
given the $70 billion dollar industry to support it)
these methods were usually dietary restrictions.

He went through any number of diets:
no fat for a while, then no carb.

One time, he got on a red wine kick, though he used to be something of a teetotaler… He would drink…


Here we are, in the dust of a fight for our lives and the lives of our Black and brown and queer and trans and migrant and disabled and poor beloveds.

And, it’s complicated, right?

As my 4 year old daughter put it, “We elected the kind one.” And the Black woman, thank God.

But we did not get the landslide, the wholesale repudiation of white supremacy and toxic patriarchy that we wished for.

We got something far more real. A reminder of the work that was always waiting for us.

Another level of awakening to the depth and breadth…


Last month I took a drive next door to Kansas to “walk home” a beloved departed church elder by officiating a small graveside service with her family. During the service, family members shared memories, as they often do. And on this day each one added a sunflower to the gravesite from a big bucket, because, Kansas.

Sue’s two year old great-granddaughter was there, and she exclaimed when she saw the flowers. When the remembrances began, this little one began too…

Sue’s eldest son was first to speak. He shared lovely memories, and when he had finished speaking and laid a…


Learning from animals in Covid times.

Eddy, resting.

It is the middle of March and my frantic life has ground to a halt. The whole world has closed in on us all in a bid to protect ourselves and those we love. My world is my household now. Toddler, preschooler, spouse, dog. The dog is pleasantly surprised to find that we never leave. I find myself watching him for lessons on how to do this staying home most of every day thing.

He sleeps a lot. Cuddles up. Runs circles in the yard when he needs to let out some steam. Barks…


A couple of weeks ago, my spouse and I were lying in bed debriefing the day, a familiar ritual in a bewildering time. We talked about the cute things our daughters had done that day, and about the many ways we had struggled, and about what we could shift to make things just a bit more bearable.

And then we were quiet for a while, and my spouse asked me: “Do you think our children’s future will be worse than this present?”

And we were quiet for a while longer, wondering, worrying, imagining. “I think it will be different.” I…


This Easter message, which I delivered in 2019, struck me anew today. In the midst of a global pandemic, we are bewildered and afraid. But the women are still holding vigil, and hope and love are still whispering, calling us to rise up and follow.

Mary Magdalene, and Mary, and Salome rose before dawn that Sunday morning. I imagine their heads pounded from exhaustion and grief and their puffy, crusted eyes squinted from their tears. I imagine they had spent the night robbed of sleep by visions of their beloved teacher’s brutal death. …


Straw-biter. Self-soothing expert.

On love, fear, and growing our comfort zones
by the Rev. Molly Housh Gordon
UU Church of Columbia, MO

Last week, my one-year-old bit an old reusable straw and broke off two small and very pointy shards of hard plastic. One of the shards she spit out. The other shard was nowhere to be found.

For a moment, she was startled and afraid and came to me crying for comfort. But with a moment’s soothing she smiled at me and then laughed while I totally panicked, scrambling around the floor looking for the other shard.

Finally, I concluded with a…


A Climate Strike Sermon by the Rev. Molly Housh Gordon
Unitarian Universalist Church of Columbia, MO

To survive the end of the world:

Stockpile seeds, water purifying tablets, and essential drugs.

Learn first aid and how to shoot a gun or crossbow.

Relearn the skills your ancestors had, like building shelters and starting fires.

Travel with a diverse group with many varied skills, perspectives, hopes, memories. You need the children and the elders too.

Find a defensible location with an adequate supply of water and good soil. Use the landscape that is left.

And for God’s sake, check the back…


A sermon on safety and risk, delivered September 30, 2018 at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Columbia, Missouri.

My dearest daughters,

An old cliché says that the body is a temple. I’m not sure about this claim, because it’s so often linked with some expectation of purity and control, tools of the patriarchy.

But I do know that my body has been a sanctuary, because it has sheltered both of you, for forty weeks, at least, before you came into this world, and in fleeting moments of comfort since then. …

Molly Housh Gordon

The Rev. Molly Housh Gordon is minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church-Columbia, MO. She is passionate about healing the soul wounds of supremacy systems.

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