Let me walk you through one of childhood’s greatest nightmares. Wait! Before you move to a new article, that was just me being dramatic. Kind of. This nightmare was kickball. Or playground sports in general. Remember that age-old tradition of the two (usually self-appointed) captains having to pick their players? One-by-one we would line up to be assessed on our …
My mom cried when I showed her a picture of the way I see colors. It is indeed a sad reality when I stop to think about it.
Here is my bone to pick with the idea of being racially colorblind: that reality is extremely unfortunate.
Why would you want to settle for only 25% of the beauty in the world? Why would you want to limit your experience of humanity and creation to just a quarter of what is possible?
Now that my 4-year-old was finished eating the parts of her sandwich that weren’t smeared on her face or lost in the recesses of her carseat, I invited her to join me in praying.
This was a strategic moment. We were inviting the power and presence of God into our community. I could model apostolic prayer for her. This was especially important since we have been going on walks in our neighborhood and I have been talking to her about praying for our neighbors. This was her chance to join Daddy in something that he enjoys, and for me to put my money where my discipling mouth is. I was gonna be an awesome dad.”
Marriages are being pushed to the limits and loneliness is a daily experience for many. The risk of getting ill from coronavirus for many has become a secondary fear to the pressure of the pot. But, here is the thing. Instapots make the best stews. There is something about the pressure environment that the Father uses to bring to the surface things that were hidden.
The couch is now a trampoline. I’ve stopped fighting it at this point. Jumping seems to be a requirement for my four year old’s sanity. Our carpet – a cereal bowl. Yep, I find a new Cheerio every 5 minutes. Even after I’ve just vacuumed. Approximately 3.5 million flecks of glitter cover surfaces like an unwanted electric flannel blanket in the sweaty heat of summer. It’s so bad that I keep finding it on my infant’s head. We need Terminix, but for glitter removal…
“And because we don’t know how to do it, we just don’t do it. Shame sneaks in and rather than choosing communion, we choose condemnation. So we quietly go away, hoping no one sees us, to perfect something that we aren’t going to try to do.”
“The seed has to die before the roots can grow deep…”
Weeks like the last few can easily exacerbate ALL of these “hard” times…if you let them.
by Jessie Flowers I like my cozy little corner of the road. I like comfort and quiet. A lot. Throughout my life, I’ve enjoyed being alone. I enjoy eating by myself, going to the movies by myself, cooking by myself, shopping by myself, walking by myself. Thankfully, I like me. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a really rural …
by Annwen Stone I keep hearing the phrase “unprecedented times”. It’s not a phrase we are familiar with in the Western World. It’s something we usually align to things we have learnt in history lessons, things that my 99-year-old grandfather has lived through. I’m thinking about world wars, food rationing, the threat of a nuclear bomb… Yet here we are …
