Everything Happens with Kate Bowler

What do we do when the world feels unbearably heavy—and no one is coming to save us? To kick off Season 16 of Everything Happens, Kate Bowler sits down live with beloved author and truth-teller Anne Lamott for a luminous, funny, and deeply honest conversation about shame, joy, faith, aging, love, and what it means to keep showing up anyway. Recorded in front of a packed house at the historic Carolina Theatre in Durham, Kate and Anne talk about the shame that follows us from childhood, the relief of putting down our armor, and the small, ordinary acts of love that still matter. This is a conversation for anyone who feels tender, overwhelmed, skeptical of easy answers—and still hungry for hope. Show notes: Anne Lamott on Substack Pre-order Joyful Anyway by Kate Bowler Tour dates & tickets: katebowler.com/joyfulanyway Watch the live conversation on YouTube Kate Bowler on Substack: katebowler.substack.com Anne Lamott Bird by Bird Operating Instructions Traveling Mercies Good Writing (with Neil Allen) Maggie Smith, "Good Bones" Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A-4” William Blake, “We are here to learn to endure the beams of love” See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Author and Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor is no stranger to darkness. After experiencing devastating loss, Barbara explores our culture’s pursuit of the sunny side of life. But perhaps there are things we learn in the dark that we can’t learn in the light. Kate and Barbara discuss the two halves of our lives and how to practice courage even in the scariest of circumstances. CW: Death of parents, tongue cancer For show notes, the transcript, and discussion questions, click here. Subscribe to Kate’s Substack for blessings, essays, and reflections that hold what’s hard and beautiful. This episode originally aired December 2022. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

What if you started thinking really concretely about small, hard choices? That’s exactly what palliative care physicians do every day. They help us think about what we really want—knowing that we have limited time and limited resources. You’re going to love our guest today, Dr. Kathryn Mannix, palliative care physician and cognitive behavioral therapist. She offers practical steps to help people and their loved ones make sense of what limited choices they have, navigate any pain and fear they may experience, and gives the most comforting speech on what the end of a life looks like that we’ve ever heard. (I promise this is not scary at all. It is perfect.) In this conversation, Kate and Kathryn discuss: Why we want to keep a lid on the scary things of life What even is palliative care How palliative care-type thinking can help us live better What happens to hope when facing end of life This is a masterclass in walking right up to the edge with people, in the most gentle, compassionate way. If you liked this episode, you’ll also love: Sunita Puri on living in uncertainty Rev. Tom Long on the importance of the rituals for death and dying Watch clips from this conversation, read the full transcript, and access discussion questions by clicking here or visiting katebowler.com/podcasts. Follow Kate on Instagram, Facebook, or X (formerly known as Twitter)—@katecbowler. Links to social pages and more available at linktr.ee/katecbowler. This episode originally aired October 2024. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

What happens when joy shows up anyway? In their third annual Happy Crappies, Kate and her dear friend Kelly Corrigan dare to name what went right in 2025 — personally, professionally, and globally — without apology or superstition. From deeply human moments that no machine could replicate, to long-overdue reckonings that reframe decades of pain, they trace the quiet ways meaning emerges when people really see one another. Along the way, they explore what joy actually is (and isn’t), why it so often arrives as a surprise, and how naming the cost of love might be one of the most hopeful acts we have. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

By this point in December, love has been merchandised within an inch of its life. It jingles in ads that say if you really love someone, you should buy them a luxury car with a bow the size of a house. But Advent tells another story. God did not arrive in a grand gesture—no skywriting, no fireworks, no leather interior with heated seats. Love slipped into a Bethlehem stable, swaddled in rags. This is not the love we usually want. We’d prefer it to be shiny and obvious. Instead, God gives us the kind of love that chooses vulnerability. A baby who cannot even hold up his huge noggin. A terrified teenage mom. And a dad who's trying to believe this is not all a terrible mistake. And yet—this is the love that remakes the whole world. Not quick or efficient, but slow and human. Love that needs to be changed and snuggled. Love that grows up to sit with outcasts and weep at gravesides and promise that nothing—not even death—can separate us from God. So here we are, a few days from Christmas, and maybe the invitation is to look for love in small ways. In a text that says, “Made it home safe.” In a neighbor shoveling your walkway. Love in the God who came close, unnoticed but never unneeded. Subscribe to Kate’s Substack for blessings, essays, and reflections that hold what’s hard and beautiful. Join us for Advent over there, too! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Every grocery store speaker is now officially blasting “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” And let’s be honest: sometimes it feels like a demand. The happiest Christmas music can feel like salt in the wound when life is heavy. If this season is not “merry and bright” for you, you’re not alone. That’s why many churches will hold “Blue Christmas” services next week. It’s an American tradition that says out loud what so many feel quietly: the holidays can hurt. These services dim the lights, play gentler music, light blue candles, and make space for grief. They remind us that the story of Christmas itself is no stranger to darkness—Jesus was born into a world of oppression and fear. Joy didn’t arrive because the world was perfect; it arrived anyway. I thought perhaps now, only halfway through the Advent season, it might be a good time to take a peek at the customs and traditions and plans that you’ve got on the calendar and see if you need to make any room for grief. Maybe the invitation of Advent is not to blast the cheeriest carol until we believe it, but to prepare room for joy by telling the truth. By letting sorrow breathe. By choosing practices that gently turn our hearts back toward joy without pretending the sadness is gone. What might that look like for you? A quiet walk near some city Christmas lights. A playlist that mixes Bing Crosby with a hymn that actually makes you cry. A phone call to the person who understands the empty chair at your table. Joy doesn’t demand we silence our grief. It asks us to make just enough room for God to slip in beside it. And sometimes, that tiny crack of space is all joy needs to return. Subscribe to Kate’s Substack for blessings, essays, and reflections that hold what’s hard and beautiful. Join us for Advent over there, too! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.