10 posts
The Christian scriptures do not have a clear teaching on the presence of our beloved animals in heaven, but they do describe it as a time when every tear is wiped from our eyes. I am not the first to wonder if for this to happen, the pets we love here must indeed make their way to us there in some form.
“I just have to get my smoothie cup, I can bring it with me.” I nod to the opaque pink Owala tumbler on the counter. This last sentence ripples with electricity through my smallest daughter, sending her into a concerned high alert. “Smoothie!!??” she asks, incredulous. “But what if they won’t know what’s in your cup?”
What I didn’t understand then was that the work was a calling for a lifetime—but at that organization simply for that season. That organization was a temporary assignment.
One week ago at this time, I was just getting my tired kids to bed, too late, full on afterglow from a delicious evening of new friends, brave stories, and sumptuous cheese boards. I won’t say the next day was pretty, with overtired little bodies struggling through daylight savings. But any storm...
Birthday Cake To the members of the Mid-Week Retreat Core Group, who have become family and love our kids well. XOXO
This is the season where Christians worldwide commemorate a birth. But before the birth comes the waiting, the in-between season of Advent, a space for holding contradictions. Christ is coming, Christ has come. I love the contradictions. They don’t force a choice, don’t foreclose possibility. Is the world desperately broken or is...
I had an order to start fulfilling the same night I had to take my son to urgent care with a severe case of please don’t let it be pinkeye, a play for the preventative doctor’s note a parent seeks to keep their kid in school rather than being sent home mid-day...
For years I said I was a cook, not a baker. I don’t do well with precision but I’m great with improvising. There you go. When did this change? I attribute it, at least the sourdough part, to Michael Pollan’s chapter on bread in Cooked, whose rapturous account of the glorious, almost...
I’m the only soccer mom this morning. It’s windy and cold, fields wet with the leftovers of the early stages of Hurricane Ian and threatening more rain at any moment. “Yeah, the dads drew the short end of the stick today!” one of the other parents calls out cheerfully, as I join...
Today’s cake begins last fall, with pancakes. More precisely, our five year old son’s desire to share the joy of pancakes with his soccer team. Our pre-soccer Saturday morning tradition, in addition to those glorious morning snuggles, is sourdough discard pancakes, made from the gloppy, sour mash leftover from feeding my sourdough...