- Hugs from an 11 year-old boy are a gift.
Of our three children, Caleb is the one who
asks for hugs the most and without needing a reason.
He loves having his head rubbed or neck
massaged. Most mornings, I am greeted by his outstretched
arms with increasing wingspan and given a hug.
I have been looking at hugs from the standpoint
of them one day flying away.
I am determined to see each one as a gift received and
not bemoan future days. I cannot stop the day when
his chin rests upon my head nor can I stall
his need for mama closeness to change its dimensions.
I can only embrace and cherish each hug dearly.
What if he is forever a hugger and I have been
waiting for the way he has been carved to end?
- Speak less, write less and listen more.
Recently I listened to a fragment of a teaching from
Beth Moore. She was recounting being
one of many speakers at a conference. She was following
the activity on Twitter and was struck by all the tweets posted
seconds after a speaker had uttered them. She expressed how
easy it is to borrow what another person has learned. The people
tweeting the excellent quotes had not done the work
allowing the words to swim deeply into their souls.
This is part of the reason I am posting less often. I want to have
time for my words to marinate. I want them to have come forth
tender after walking through the toughness
of my spirit.
I want to process before I proclaim.
- I have racial tension fatigue, is there such a thing?
When I use the word fatigue, I don’t mean I am tired
enough to sweep facts out of sight and mind.
My mind, heart and soul are fatigued.
The expanse of a day brings an unwelcome accumulation
of evidence supporting our tumultuous climate.
It can be violent or a person of stature’s
poor choice of words.
I have felt disheartened when many are surprised
When making a cake,
dry ingredients are added to wet ones and stirred
until each ingredient is fully incorporated. One final
scrap along a hidden section of your bowl reveals streaks
of flour, catching you off guard.
Where did that come from?
I thought enough stirring had occurred for the ingredients
in the batter to be come indistinguishable?
The streak of racism has been uncovered and deserves
conversation and action. It demands heart change.
My soul’s permanent resident of optimism has
vacated and needs time to move back in
so I can respond in hope and energy.
Our church just finished a 3 week series called
Saving Justice reflecting on the gospel, injustice
and the lives of Martin Luther King Jr. and
Coretta Scott King.
I have listened to this talk twice and will again.
I found it to be a very balanced and hopeful
Have a listen here.
- I am going to miss Parenthood.
By the time this post is published, the sixth
and final season of Parenthood will have aired.
Carl and I watched this series with our girls.
Not everything but so many themes intersected
our lives. Each week, it was as if we set
up a water cooler in our living room to discuss
story lines real and on the screen.
A fun side note: Craig T. Nelson (Zeek) was in the same
graduation class as my father and attended
their 50th class reunion a couple of summers ago.
So that means I sort of know him ;)
I will miss the Bravermans.
Here are 10 ways Parenthood made us cry.
- I have given winter a bad rap.
Although I have never lined up the seasons
from favorite to least favorite, I have
always known winter landed on the bottom.
Living in Portland, Oregon, although many
escape to the mountains for snow fun, I think
the rest of us are always waiting for better weather
and if that isn’t going to happen, let it snow.
Not rumors of snow but bring on snow in abundance
for a day or two. Most winters are grey,chilly and
soggy. I feel badly writing the previous sentence
because lately it has been quite wonderfully cool
with fog in the mornings and late evenings and
sunny blue sky afternoons but this isn’t normal.
Mark Buchanan is one of my favorite authors.
For the past several years,his book Spiritual Rhythm
has been a needed companion for each season,
especially in the midst of winter.
Whenever I read about a particular season,
I am reminded of vital sections
within the year I am prone to discard.
I am fervently trying to receive one of winter’s purposes
as Mark Buchanan details:
Winter's not for adding things but for cutting things. It's the best season, the safest one, actually, to look closely at all the tangled branches of your life--the travel, the committee work, the various projects, the hobbies that have become burdens or obsessions, the trivial pursuits, the diversions; or the ingrown snarl of things, the lists in your head of people and situations to worry about, the proliferation of responsibilities that aren't really yours-- and ask honestly if these are bearing fruit or just sapping energy. And then, without apology or even caution, cut to nothing all that which gives nothing.
You can read more here.
What did you learn in January?