My son almost drowned last week…in a pool full of lifeguards…during a swim lesson. And, truthfully, the experience still haunts me.
Tag: Jesus
The First Jesus Questions
My son is four years, one month, and 20 days old. And he is starting to ask questions about Jesus.
Big Girl Bed
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 4
It was one of those bittersweet moments in parenthood – a sign that your child is growing more independent by the day.
This weekend our almost two-year-old daughter transitioned from a crib to a full bed. The déjà vu was hard to resist.
No Mosquito Bites
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 1
If you know me in real life, you’ve probably heard me complain about the mosquitoes at our short-term home. They eat the children alive, even with bug spray. We are lucky to escape a 20-minute outdoor adventure with less than 8 bites EACH.
Yesterday a trending weather pattern continued: rain. Frankly, I wanted to kick nature in the pants. So we hooded and booted up. No puddle was safe.
The Gratitude Gospel*
The Gratitude Gospel. Okay, so I made it up. But this is a new theme I am exploring in my blog.
You see, life has been rainy lately. And not in the “kids splashing in the rain” kind of way.
We sold our home.
We are renting a cabin in the woods outside of town.
And the university that employees my husband and myself is in the midst of a consolidation.
When You Can’t Push
I’m a bit of an agenda pusher. In college, for example, I saw marriage as my opportunity to no longer be scared in bed each night. For whatever reason, I feared the darkness.
That is, until I read a magazine article with the perfect antidote. It told me to call out one word three times: Jesus. It worked.
My husband and I will celebrate eight years of marriage this summer, and I must confess that when he travels, I still chase the invisible monsters away with a single name.
What’s harder, however, is quieting the other demons that persist in adulthood. The anxiety. The doubts. The dread of not knowing the future.
Quite simply, the walls we can’t easily push through.
When Jesus Is Gay
Once upon a time, a little girl learned about Jesus. He had a beard, just like her father, and the bluest of eyes. The Bible told her that he was a warm man – the kind who never met a stranger.
But the sermon always took a Southern Baptist turn for the worse when homosexuality was mentioned. What happens to those who are intimate with the same sex?
Hell.
The Trouble with Christianity
In our eighth year of marriage, my husband and I faced one of our greatest decisions yet. I’d be lying if I said strong emotions weren’t central.
After several months of consideration and prayer, our future seemed to be falling into place. Except for this one ever-present question: Is this best for our children?
A Christmas Present
As a mother, I often feel like I am on the front lines of culture wars. This year I didn’t go Black Friday shopping. But two days later, I was forced to brave Walmart for milk (no blizzard pending).
The scene was so quiet, so serene, and the Christmas aisle was like my own pine-scented paradise. Except I was all alone. There was no warmth.
The whole endeavor to find an advent calendar was fruitless. In fact, I found nothing among the Christmas items but gift-related products. Wrapping paper, bows, gift tags, and tape.
Isn’t Christmas about spending time together?
I took my 1-year-old on a mission trip. Here’s what happened
It’s a scene no mother envisions: your 1-year-old child running barefoot through a church made of two double-wides in the middle of West Virginia. And, yet, this is a quintessential moment from my first mission trip with my daughter.
To be honest, it was a beautiful sight. You see, in coal country, there is an emerging trend to combat vast unemployment, uncomfortable outside aid, and limited access to essential services.
Cease having children.
When I agreed to join this service opportunity, I didn’t realize that my little girl would be the youngest child I would encounter on the trip. I live in the Deep South, and babies are everywhere. But this is not true in the heart of Appalachia, and it would be my daughter who gave this community what I could not: hope.
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Unlearning 