The other day, my son John Paul and I were looking through some of his work from last school year (perhaps to take our minds off the realities of virtual 2nd grade). He pulled out a paper and showed it to me.
Our almost-8-year-old son is attending two weeks of day camp right now, in the middle of July, hopefully before the second wave of covid-19 crashes into our area of central Virginia.
Earlier this winter I started participating in our church’s weekly women’s group, which was finishing up The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown.
My very first Ash Wednesday as a baptized member of the Episcopal Church was February 13, 2013. My husband was at home that evening with our infant son, John Paul, and I was at church alone. I
Families can participate in the life of the church through different, and sometimes unexpected, ways.
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!’
I have a confession to make: We do not pray at home, as a family, with any regularity. There, I said it.
In the church year, Advent is a season of waiting. It’s a season when we are all encouraged to slow down and exercise our patience muscles in anticipation of the birth of our Savior.
It can be very difficult to invite others into the messy, private worlds we inhabit with our immediate families, and if we’re lucky, our most […]
During Lent this year, our church decided to start using the “modern” version of the Lord’s Prayer. I think it was to help keep us […]