Letting go of your children is tough. Miriam shares what happened when she let her daughter make her own way.
They sit in their carseats, next to one another holding hands. The palest caucasion skin of anyone in the family, enfolding the brown hand of his Hispanic little brother. “Are they both yours?” The woman meeting us for the first time asks. “Yes,” I reply, but she wants more. “How did you get that black haired one?” “Same way I got the blond haired one.”
It happens often when we are in church: at the time of the children’s sermon, my daughter is nowhere to be found.
“Hey Mom, it’s a new world record…I lost my lunchbox on the first day of school!”This declaration from my newly minted 7th grader should have made me angry, or at least frustrated. Instead, I found myself laughing with relief and genuine glee; the pressure was off already.
A few months ago Victoria Hoppes invited me to join the Faith @ Home community by writing short reflections on lectionary texts to help adults teach the stories to young children.
It’s a Sunday after church and we’re stuffing Nutella-ed plates and oatmeal-ed bowls into the dishwasher while also fixing lunch. Except one of us is already done and inviting the neighbors over.
Last week as the kids and I arrived at Operation Kindness animal shelter for our weekly hour of volunteer work, I noticed Big Sugar was in a room off the front lobby. Big Sugar is one of our favorite dogs at the shelter.
When it comes to mistakes, I tend to think I have a pretty healthy attitude on the subject. It’s okay, we all make mistakes, I tell my seven-year-old son when he accidentally falls off his pint-sized skateboard and skins his knee.
The banging of little metal cars against each other with the sounds of crashes made by young mouths. The shuffle of paper and the clack, clack, clack of a pile of markers being dumped out. An angry squeal by a younger sibling to ‘give it back!’
As a dad of two daughters, I have a lot of feelings about today’s feast day for Mary and Martha of Bethany.