Bri McKoy
Bri McKoy is a writer and an accidental lover of cooking. Marriage brought with it bliss. And a budget. So she began to step into the kitchen every evening and quickly discovered this is her art. She found that her food was a glue that allowed space for stories and rich community. Therefore she created and owns where she shares her recipes and the stories that come from her kitchen. She is also the leader of Compassion Bloggers and is passionate about giving bloggers an opportunity to use their platform to advocate for children in poverty.
9 posts
In Which A Meal Is My Only Goal

Life has been a little weird for me. Maybe weird is a bad description? Maybe unstable is better. Maybe for the first time in my life I am truly grappling with those old words from Paul, “For I do not understand what I am doing, because I do not practice what I want to do, but I do what I hate.” Romans 7:15 (HCSB). Is the visceral understanding of these...

4 2
Piercing Questions and Costly Grace

“Don’t forget your coat!” Jeremy ran up behind me and wrapped me in the fluffy down-filled coat. Colorado is quietly cold in the winter. The sun is no gauge for the actual temperature. I bundled up, grabbed the homemade Whole Foods salsa I picked up, though I promised homemade salsa, and we were off to a dinner with 4 other friends, some of which we hadn’t seen in nearly 6...

7 3
A Lifetime of Reconciliation

My luggage slammed into a row of seats as I tried to dash down the aisle and remove myself from the plane as quickly as possible. I had spent a week in Bolivia eating meals in the dirt, next to trash heaps, in a land scorched with drought and the threats of hopelessness. I broke bread and chiseled away at doubt. I tumbled out of the airport and started taking...

6 3
Why I Cook

[caption id="attachment_2777" align="aligncenter" width="990"] From the Instagram feed of @BriMckoy[/caption] Why I Cook- A Poem Teary eyes call on faraway lands, a gleaming hint. Stop. Squint. Dreams. Calls floating words down, into print. On the paper. Gives way to wooden poles, beams. And look what my words created, a home. A tent. I am a moving tent. A moving home. Carrying stories. Heartbreaks. Love. Mistakes. Look at what I carry....

3 1
Preparing The Soul For Celebration

I know enough about myself and about the holidays to know that I am in for one wild, messy, joy-filled, tear-streaked ride. One thing I need, more than anything, is to keep my eyes on the prize. And I so wrote this as a commission to my own soul. I thought maybe your soul could bump bright against it too. This season, may I choose celebration and the joy of...

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Meals As Enacted Mission

“Don’t get so stressed out. I thought you liked cooking and entertaining, how can you get so stressed over it?” My husband, who I affectionately call Beau, asked me this question just minutes before some new guests arrived to our home. I wanted to respond with some quip or at least a good defense but I couldn’t. He was right – why am I so stressed while I’m doing something...

6 2
With An Unbound Open Heart

I remember when I first met you. You came bounding through the parking lot to try out CrossFit for the first time. I was standing outside trying to string my double unders together. You came right up to me, like I was the new one – not you. You smiled big at me and said, “Oh girl, what are you trying to do with that rope. That just ain’t happening.”...

8 6
To Show Mercy

Almost a year ago God had me in Ecuador with Compassion International. We were in a gorgeous town, marked with green hills and a sky that was commanded by clouds. Clouds crowding over each other, clouds coming to touch the land we walked. It was also studded with families who farmed, struggling to make it day by day. In fact, what they farmed is what they ate. And most nights...

7 1
First We Invite

“If you are a dreamer, come in, If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer... If you're a pretender come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!”  -Shel Silverstein   My heart bursts right open dripping holy joy when we have people over for dinner. To have people, broken from this world...

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