Hey there, mama. You’re sending your little one off for their first day of school, huh? It might actually be their first day of school – their first steps into the world of kindergarten – or this might be one of their last first days. Mine? She’s in third grade now, so I guess I’m somewhere in the middle. We haven’t been at this thing too long, but I’ve learned
It’s that time of year again, and some days it’s almost enough to make me log off social media for good. Sometimes it’s just not great for my soul. I tap open Instagram to see what’s going on, and there it is. Every day, it’s the same thing – a different person, yes, but the same thing. A picture of a deck overlooking a mountain vista, a coffee cup in
For as long as I can remember, “friendship” meant “fitting in,” but not in the sense of having a place to belong. Friendship was like a crocheted afghan, with each strand and each loop perfectly aligning in the pattern to create uniformity. It was fitting in to the point of matching – conforming – sticking closely enough to the pattern that any variances were undetectable. Friendship, for me, was a kind of
I’m sitting at my desk – in my office – for the first time in almost a week. I preached at my home church a week ago, and that sermon consumed me. Absolutely consumed me. I told my congregation at church on Sunday that I had been in a wrestling match with the Holy Spirit all week, and that is really the best way I can describe it. Based
She woke up that morning and found a few dollars under her pillow where she had left her tooth the night before. The questions started immediately: “Mommy, is the tooth fairy even real? I mean, fairies aren’t real, right? So why would there be a tooth fairy? Have you and Daddy just been taking my teeth and keeping them somewhere secret?” My immediate reaction was almost one of guilt: admit nothing!
When I was a freshman in college, part of our orientation packet included a course catalog. Between the blue and white covers of that book was the road map to get any student through any course of study: political science, veterinary medicine, early childhood education, journalism. All the classes needed to complete any major were outlined there, and my fellow students and I pored for hours over those pages. Many
When I first cleaned out my closet to begin my Lenten challenge of smashing my love idol of approval from others, I expected to feel panic. Doubt. Fear. Could I really do this? Am I crazy? And do I really want to write about this journey for everyone to see, letting the world in on my private struggle and the most awkward parts of my journey? I expected to feel
I loved my fourth grade teacher. Mrs. Harris was funny and kind and so smart. She was tall and beautiful and always wore trendy clothes – always looked, to me, more like a model than the teacher of multiplication tables and the scientific method. So when word got back to me that Mrs. Harris had said that I “always look(ed) so nice,” I was over the moon. You see, my
When I was little, I had a friend who…well, let’s just say she had an intense desire for things that belonged to other people, and she was quick to make those things her own if given the chance. On several occasions she had been accused of stealing things that weren’t hers, and rightly so. It was an ongoing thing with her, and those of us who knew her knew we
We were watching the video for the second time in a row when she said it. “I just….I just feel like she sings better than I do.” When I turned my eyes from the screen, with its shaky images of preschoolers singing in their Christmas performance, the expression I saw on her face broke my heart. It was a look I’m sure I’ve worn at least a thousand times. Disapproval.