thirty under thirty, post-diploma
Posted on Mar 29, 2015
Posted on Mar 6, 2014
Posted on Apr 20, 2015
Posted on Nov 14, 2013
Posted by Greg Kim on May 25, 2015
Posted by Lauren Boersma on May 24, 2015
Posted by Michael Kelly on May 23, 2015
Posted by Robert Zandstra on May 22, 2015
Posted by Andrew Orlebeke on May 21, 2015
May 25, 2015 by Greg Kim
What’s left if and when we stubbornly hold onto a strictly individualistic notion of our identity, expression, and self? I think we risk ending up alone.
May 24, 2015 by Lauren Boersma
During the first week of school, not a single one of you would laugh at my jokes. Now, some of you kind of do, probably just because you’re trying to be encouraging and nice.
May 23, 2015 by Michael Kelly
When I moved to Boston, I had a dream about the church I would attend. I would get there by public transportation, because I like to believe that God is green.
May 22, 2015 by Robert Zandstra
One way I feel Easter season’s lack of spiritual resources is in the lack of church music about the resurrection life to come, what we are “practicing” for.
May 21, 2015 by Andrew Orlebeke
Chuck is, for O’Neill, an incarnation of New York itself: brash, quick-talking, big-dreaming, and under the surface, deeply flawed. Even his self-proclaimed motto sounds gimmicky.
May 20, 2015 by Gabe Gunnink
Immediately, I sprinted to the finish and found my athlete crumpled like a pop can, every iota of energy spent. I haven’t felt happy or proud like I did in that moment for years.
May 19, 2015 by Mary Margaret Healy
Such a sentence reminds the world that everything is a living art, every idea can be made new again, every stone can have the moss pulled off and be rolled back down a hill.
May 18, 2015 by Matt & Laura Hubers
To be honest, I doubt that feeling will ever go away, because (I have to take a deep breath before I even type this): I’m going to be a mother for the whole rest of the my life.
May 17, 2015 by Geneva Langeland
Two more ticks joined the swimmer in the bowl. We flicked an intruder into an empty pasta sauce container and scrawled “Tick Jar” across the glass in Sharpie.
May 16, 2015 by Andrew Knot
What I lack in affection for Millie is doubly manifest in the 6’2” 230 pound frame of my younger brother, David. His love for her would be the stuff of a tear-jerking motion picture.
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