“Pizza is my favorite food, too.”
It takes me by surprise when I am buying back to school supplies that we are still in the liturgical season of Pentecost, and will be for even longer, beyond purchasing the discounted Halloween Candy, all the way to the tip of Black Friday.
I had it fully mapped out in my head what an excellent Sunday morning we were going to have, which was the first sign that it was definitely going to go in another direction.
Every email to my children’s teachers the first three weeks of quarantine began with an apology.
“My greatest desire,” Emily Malbone Morgan wrote, “has always been to make tired people rested and happy.”
Our faithfulness is not a reality show to be won, but rather transformation for God and glory to God alone.
It happens often when we are in church: at the time of the children’s sermon, my daughter is nowhere to be found.
Our daughter lost her first tooth a few weeks ago. As I stared into that gaping hole in her mouth, I did the thing where you internally tear up and think, ‘where did my little baby go?’ in that wistful, nostalgic way. ‘It was only yesterday that I was holding her in my arms!’
Sometimes I get into a parenting funk. Or really, a life funk. One of those seasons when there are too many demands on time and energy, too many nights punctuated by sleepless children, too many ills in the world reminding us that the kingdom of God is still super not yet here.
I don’t like doing things badly. I don’t like doing things badly in front of other people. I really don’t like doing things badly with a bathing suit on in front of other people. This was the set of parameters I had to work with for my Annual Discernment of Kit’s Lenten Practice this year.