Click to read Part 1: What I (Don’t) Want to Be When I Grow Up Dear Younger Me, You know those non-dreams you so courageously penned in your Bible? The ones you’re petrified someone will see? You’re not less than; you rock! It’s ok not to care about careers. (It’s also ok TO care about careers.) The thing is? It’s…
I always hated the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I felt ashamed; I blushed, stammered. Choked out something I thought might pass for non-fiction. (Which made me feel worse since I knew lying was wrong.) The truth? I didn’t want to be anything; I had no ambitions. How do you tell people that? I…
When I turned thirteen, my world expanded. I was finally old enough to babysit. Oddly, jobs were scarce. There were so many kids my age in our neighborhood, these coveted income-producing opportunities were rare. Thankfully, my next-door neighbor chose me. I frequently babysat for this family. Their three children weren’t much younger than me. I often played with them even when not babysitting. One of the differences…
My four-year-old daughter colored several papers and attempted to staple them. Her six-year-old brother observed. “I have to push with all my weight when I use the stapler,” he said, validating her struggle. Suddenly, she stood up, chair scraping, launched her project in the trash can, and stormed to her room. “I’m right here if you want –,” <cue slamming…
In conversation with a friend, once, I made a comment about learning to embrace how I operate. I’m slower (but more thorough) to process and sometimes struggle to do what seems to come easily to many (which makes me a good teacher, after the fact). I don’t move at lightning speed (keeps me humble), and I’m not a model multi-tasker…
Ziploc of ice slung over my propped ankle, I reflected over the incident. Frankly, I found it maddening I didn’t even have a good story to tell. The moles went to town next to the backyard steps, and the past winter hardened the earth into ridges. I’d walked these steps dozens of times this summer without pain. Not this time.…
You can click here to read Part 1 of the story and soak in treasures of grace that changed my life and gave me tools to rightly wield truth. For me, embracing grace first – while listening to a sermon based on Kyle Idleman’s book Not a Fan – meant the difference between a truth-stabbing and a song inspiration. I…
I sat in the pew and braced myself for the fear I knew to expect. I don’t know how many times I thought I was wielding the shield of faith, only to sustain a truth-knifing requiring weeks, or longer, to heal. My pastor preached a sermon last fall based on Kyle Idleman’s book Not a Fan. The sermon’s main message…
I remember tales of long ago: a pastor wounded my red-lipstick-wearing-aunt with words indicating he more or less equated red lipstick with the devil. Wearing red lipstick meant you followed the devil. And thus, you must be treated as though you were the devil. Doesn’t make for a let’s-all-praise-Jesus-together atmosphere, you know? I’m grateful this doesn’t seem to be the…
I still remember an interesting act from an elementary school talent show between two characters, “dear Henry” and “dear Liza.” If you know the children’s song, you already know Henry tells his dear Liza, “There’s a hole in my bucket.” And dear Liza answers quite practically, “Then mend it, dear Henry!” And he asks her, “With what shall I mend…
