confessions of a sinful parent

It’s been a full 72 hours since I’ve screamed at anyone. 

And to be perfectly fair, for 48 of those hours I was on a retreat without my family.

In any case, it feels really good. 

 

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adoring Christ in a Christmas of grieving

I’m going to cut right to the chase here: I had two grandparents die in the past year, and it really sucked. And I’m sad. And I have been dreading Christmas since New Years.  Continue reading

a well-played in home

Most days, this is what my daughter’s room looks like. And the living room. And my office. And our guest room.

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#himtoo

When he was in his early 20s, my husband woke up at a party to find a woman he did not know having un-consented sex with him.  He was passed out drunk in a back bedroom alone when it happened.  The next morning, he woke up to find her still in bed with him, brazen and shameless as if she had done him a great favor.

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A Letter to my Daughter in the Age of Feminism.

Recently millions of women – strong, beautiful, brave women – came together in cities across the country to march for equality and empowerment.  They were passionate, unified, and got a lot of things right.  And they were loud.

And yesterday morning as I laid there watching you sleep peacefully, I was wondering exactly what kind of world you’re going to grow up in. I was thinking about the full set of values that these women were marching for, and I was wondering how they ended up grouped together so firmly.  Many of them are values I hope you have, goals I hope you march for – many, but not all.  But it can get so loud in the world sometimes that suddenly it can be hard to even make sense of who you are through all the clamor.  And it struck me that I’m going to really have to get my act together if I’m going to teach you to stand apart from it.  Because if not me, then who? Continue reading

These Bones Will Sing

It was the gown that finally broke me.

That ugly, faded, worn so many times before me, hospital gown.  After 45 hours of labor, I stepped into a sterile hospital room and looked around at everything I hated about that place.  I took a deep breath and tolerated the machines, the curtains, the cold bassinet they intended to put my baby in, the harsh lighting, the vinyl floors, the IV drip I’d soon be hooked up to, the mechanical bed with scratchy sheets.  But when my eyes fell upon that gown – that hideous cotton drape that was going to turn me into a patient – my heart gave one final plunge into despair. 

For me, the hospital gown was the final step to making my birth medical and I feared that it would strip away everything primal that had risen up inside of me.  It symbolized everything I was losing.  I was never supposed to be in this room, never supposed to be told what to wear.  I was supposed to give birth naked in my bedroom, in a pool in my husband’s arms.  No needles.  No machines.  No nurses.  No vaginal exams.  No cold bassinet and no harsh lighting.  No freaking rules.  I was supposed to be at home where it was safe and peaceful – where I was in control.  However, after two days at home my baby was getting weak and my plan needed to change.  I walked into that hospital terrified, my body quaking with contractions and grief.  But half an hour earlier I was told that my daughter’s heart tones were no longer varying, and I became a mom.  So with tears pouring from my eyes, I sat down on that horrible bed and put on the stupid gown.


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A Biblical Response to Terrorism

I sat here and tried to think of a catchy introduction to this post.  I searched my brain for a well-written lead in that would sugar coat the subject – but I don’t have one.  We are in the middle of a global terrorism crisis.  It’s bad, and it’s getting worse.  And you already know that.  It’s not occasional attacks, but daily massacres, both foreign and domestic.  Whether by a lone gunman on a college campus, a planted bomb on a passenger jet, an organized attack across a major city, or the systematic overtaking of village after village—the threat is constant and it is worldwide.  It hangs in the air all around us, and we can feel the thick darkness as it grows, a swirling, raging mass above our heads, begging us to ask: WHAT NOW?
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