As I sit here writing… I am inhabiting a body. As you sit there reading… you are, also, inhabiting a body.I am sure, just as I do, you have a long and complex history with your body. Most of my history surrounds my body’s interaction with gravity and how much space it takes up.
Several years ago, the Holy Spirit sent me, via the internet of course, a simple activity to ease dinner table tension by building relationship through storytelling. A mason jar, minimally decorated and containing slips of paper in three colors.
My children were not born knowing about guns.
There were exactly two snowballs in my south Louisiana childhood, and they didn’t fall from the sky in Baton Rouge. They rode down from Ohio on the side of our neighbor’s station wagon, and took their shape when she scooped them and gave them to wide-eyed children who had never seen snow.
In the retelling of this story in Acts chapter one, after Jesus ascends, the disciples are staring up towards the heavens and two men in white robes appear. They ask the disciples:“Why do you stand looking up towards heaven?”
Several years ago, Jen Hatmaker’s Worst End of School Year Mom Ever made the rounds, describing the desperate limp toward the finish line that many parents experience. More recently, the Holderness family produced a video about “Maycember,” illustrating the feeling that parents have at this time of year – just as busy as Christmas, without the lights and the peppy music.
My mom texted a picture to all seven of us kids at the end of August after Nathan, my youngest brother and twenty years my junior, left for his freshman year of college. “In the first week of empty nesting we found an empty nest!” she wrote.
As you make your plans for summer study or travel, for camps and play dates, consider making some time for summer formation as well. After all, your kids (at least) might have some extra time, and what better opportunity to grow in the knowledge and love of God?!
I’m not quite sure when eating as a family of six turned into a contact sport, but I work to convince my daughters to drop the mob mentality each evening. Elbows are thrown, insults may be hurled, and by the end, someone is crying.Usually, it’s not me.
Earlier this year, I met a friend for a remarkable lunch. A relatively new church goer, she had heard a sermon on the beatitudes and wanted to speak with me about whether we Christians were really serious about trying to live that out.