Our food is a constant reminder of both the goodness and the brokenness of God’s creation.
The simplest way I can describe Wild Goose is a progressive Christian festival, an ecumenical experience that can house exvangelicals on deconstruction journeys alongside various mainstream protestants, Catholics, Quakers, and the unaffiliated.
In the early months of the pandemic, locked down with my young children in a too small city row house with no real backyard to speak of, I found myself losing my patience, something already in short supply, much like milk, diapers, and grocery delivery slots.
Mom, I thought Jesus had white skin?
Why do we need to keep the kids busy all summer? Aren’t they busy enough all during the school year? Don’t they deserve a little time to rest and relax, too?
“Are you sad?” Without hesitation he said no, and he then paused and asked me, “Why, are you?”
Jesus tells us to have the faith of a child, but I wonder if there is also something to having the summer of a child.
Well, I feel like I need to come clean: I failed.
In this season of Easter, I have been wondering just when and how Jesus might reveal himself to our oldest son, or all our sons for that matter.
As part of the One Thousand Days of Love campaign, Episcopal Relief & Development is offering a simple way for churches and parents to think beyond candy and stickers by adding some empathy and gratitude to this year’s Easter egg hunts.