I once sat with a friend whose child’s needs are so severe, it’s almost impossible for my friend to feel connected to them. Or to feel like they’re offering their child much of value.
Grief, alienation, and anger creased my friend’s features.
I once sat with a friend whose child’s needs are so severe, it’s almost impossible for my friend to feel connected to them. Or to feel like they’re offering their child much of value.
Grief, alienation, and anger creased my friend’s features.
Author’s note: One of my perennially best-traveled posts remains Christian, Married, and Attracted Elsewhere. It’s not unusual to be attracted to or feel connection with someone else.
But as followers of Jesus–how do we handle it? Is it kosher to be married and have a best friend of the opposite sex who’s not your spouse?
So often, to disciple teens just means making the most of a moment.
We’re training their hearts to engage, connecting their faith with everything: from the cashier at McDonald’s to the bully who slams my kid’s locker on their fingers.
This morning my teenagers are peeling themselves out of bed for that oh-so-exciting first school day after Spring Break. And for all us types with less liturgy in our lives, it might actually be easy to let Holy Week slide into that sludgy pile of Great Things I Really Meant to Focus On.
So I’m tossing both of us a low ball here.
So personal updates can feel a little like coming out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck on my shoe? Talking about my life, as well as finding material my four teenagers rubber stamp, feels…well. Awkward.
But I do appreciate the ways so many of you follow this blog, occasionally reaching out with your thoughts and encouragement. So consider this a right-back-at-ya.
Pull up a chair.
So there’s this word with about 47 definitions: blessed.
It’s tagged on a new car on Insta, or on a T-shirt, a SpongeBob meme, or scrawled happily in house word art. But blessed can be confusing to me.
When things are going right, am I blessed by God? When they aren’t–what then?
“Dad, where do babies come from?”
“Why doesn’t Grandma believe in God?”
“Can men get pregnant? That guy looks pregnant.”
So maybe knowing the off-roading ways of my mind, you won’t be surprised: My lunch recently inspired a way to draw out the best in my kids.
Lately I’ve been sawing into the Roma tomatoes glowing red from the wooden bowl on my counter. I lay slices of fresh mozzarella on top (because why not?), and then some ribbons of the basil forming its little green-leafed umbrellas on my front porch. It’s even better when I reach into the clay salt cellar on my stove and sprinkle sea salt on top.
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