I found the following book in my neighborhood’s free little library a couple of months ago: Even though I typically read fiction books on Kindle and Audible (a habit I am desperately trying to curb, so as not to support Mr. Bezos anymore), paperbacks are not out of the question. That being said, Women Talking caught my eye. What’s not to love about eight Mennonite women who secretly gather in a hayloft every evening to decide whether or not they... Read more
On Tuesday night, I took up one end of the couch, while my younger son took up the other end. The dog lay somewhere in between. Each of us covered under our own pile of blankets, he stared at his book while I stared at mine. “Mama,” he suddenly said, looking up. “Why am I so tired?” I nodded my head: I too was tired, exhausted by the news and by the events of the previous twenty-four hours, exhausted by... Read more
I finally read a book that had been sitting on my shelf for a while: To be honest, it wasn’t my favorite Buechner book. Telling Secrets, I loved; Listening to Your Life, I ate up at various times of indecision. But Whistling in the Dark felt antiquated and lazy, like a primer the publisher believed a good idea to publish simply because they knew it would sell (simply because his name graced the cover). The concept was simple: create a... Read more
A friend recently passed along the following book: I think you’ll like it, she said, and mostly, I did. Composing a Life tells the stories of five different women, but even more, it tells a story of life and of how all the different facets of who we are often act a work in progress. As the back cover reads, the author’s “life-affirming conclusion is that life is an improvisational art form, and that the interruptions, conflicted priorities, and exigencies that... Read more
Christmas is going to be here before we know it. If you’re anything like me, you’re ready to eat and be merry and cozy up under a snuggly blanket with a nerdy theological book or two so you can read by the light of the evergreen tree. While I always try and balance my reading out with a healthy amount of beach reads, I’ve lately been enthralled (and have therefore devoured) the many post-evangelical books on the market right now.... Read more
Week before last, my boys and I stopped by the hardware store afterschool for a cord of firewood and a new lighter. When dusk fell early that night, we trudged out to the backyard and attempted to light a fire in the fire pit. Now, I’ll have you know, I’ve been camping a time or two. I know how to stack the wood (in a pyramid shape). I know to add kindling, lots and lots of kindling, and to fan... Read more
On Friday night, my boys and I gathered around the scratched and worn dining room table. We wiped off crumbs from the meal before, and laid down holiday placemats made of red and green, pink and gold. We lit candles at both ends of the table: one, an orange harvest-scented candle leftover from Thanksgiving, and two, a couple of votives in the Advent wreath, along with the center candle because we don’t always play by Advent-lighting rules. As the boys... Read more
A couple of days ago, I left the house to take the dog for a walk. My older son stayed home, a pile of homework at his sixth-grade side all his to do. My husband was at work, my younger son at aftercare. When Rufus (the beloved dog) and I got home, the front door was locked. This, of course, was not all that unusual, nor was it the biggest problem known to humankind: even though I’d not brought my... Read more
Sometimes, our invitation is simply to notice. When I walk through the backyard garden, I notice when a weed pops up in the bed of garlic. When I browse the aisles of Trader Joe’s, I notice when a new tub of queso surfaces up on a refrigerator shelf. When I poke my head over the couch in the living room, I notice when bunched up pairs of dirty stray socks have not made it to their proper resting place in... Read more
Less than forty-eight hours ago, I walked and stood and wound my way through a neighborhood in Minneapolis, Minnesota. This was not just any neighborhood, mind you, but the neighborhood where uprisings started four years ago – where a man named George Floyd became a household name, where protests that began in an historically Black neighborhood called Powderhorn Park became part of 2020’s cry heard round the world. The short pilgrimage I embarked on was nothing short of impactful, to... Read more
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