Posts tagged "children"

Reconciliation through my Son

Tears stream down his face as he reaches his arms out to me. Mommyyyy! Huuuggg! Huuuggg! My jaw, my arms, my heart are clenched. Anger pulsates through my body, and I refuse to oblige. He’s two years old, and I should know better, but in the moment I want him to bear the consequences of his disobedience. I want him to know things can’t be fixed so quickly when the...

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Back to Basics (Grilled Caprese Sandwiches)

I sent my baby to kindergarten this year, and I didn't shed a single tear. I dropped my son off to fend for himself, and nothing but eager anticipation left the building with me.  That's quite impressive for someone like me. Even the simplest, most expected changes have been known to throw me into a full-on sob fest. (Think night-before-the-new-semester break down in college. Every time.) I like routine. I...

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Art For The Heart

I can't keep up with the piles and stacks of her art that find their way to my night stand when I'm in the shower, or the ones she sets on the kitchen counter top in the middle of the mad-rush to get dinner on the table. She's always creating something, and always quick to give her art away.  We tell her repeatedly that she has a bent for it--that...

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On Grace And Growing Up

The #skatergirl started wearing my earrings this year. She's 14 now. Flipping furiously from sweet girl to blossoming woman, I'll admit I've had a hard time keeping up. Some of the changes that accompanied this transition were quiet and subtle, like trees in winter - patient. Others rolled in like a violent storm no one saw coming - a dangerous surprise with repercussions I couldn't predict. Both slow and wild...

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The Ministry of Sugar

He’s woken up from the afternoon nap and walked down the stairs. I’m in the kitchen with a tray of freshly-baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. The air in our kitchen is warm, the scent of melting dark brown sugar and cinnamon laces the air. He sits down at the red table and starts to eat. “May I have some more?” he asks.   And I can see the sparkle in...

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A Feast of Peppermint Jo-Jo’s: On the Couch with Jesus

Last Christmas our son was a fresh three months old, fitting neatly into six month onesies and footie pajamas with smiling husky puppies on the feet. The weather was unnaturally warm for December but we lived in the caution of RSV and ordinary colds—things that can land our little one in the hospital—so I don’t remember much of the outdoors. I think the leaves fell, wet with the December rains,...

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Reconciling With Time Means Reconciling With Myself

“When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I’ll not play hypocrite To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but That piecemeal peace is poor peace.” -Gerard Manley Hopkins Sometimes reconciliation is hardest in your own heart, with your own mysterious self. We are fickle toward each other, and therefore fickle toward ourselves. And, as Hopkins says, “piecemeal peace is poor peace.” This has been a season of forced...

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Invisible Hospitality And An End-of-Summer Cake

Ten years ago, she confessed to me that hospitality wasn’t for her. The tasks that brought me life brought her only unbearable stress. She sloughed off a burden of expectation that wasn’t hers to bear. She said no to hosting friends for dinner and said yes to so many other good things. * Today, that same friend is mom to a houseful of kids. They arrived through birth and adoption...

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What Hospitality Looks Like in a Castle

As a writer, I abhor a cliché, and I am no fan of idioms and proverbs. I prefer my words fresh and perhaps a little startling. I like words that wake us up and rattle our usual ways of thinking and seeing. We say if these walls could talk, but what if the creaky floorboards have more important things to declare? We say a man’s home is his castle, but...

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On the Glory of the Clementine, and Noticing

When I peeled back the tiny clementine mandarin, bright orange soft skin closed around the fruit, I should have considered the beauty of its opening. My capable thumb’s nail pressed through the outer layer. How I moved through the movement of pinching and separating the protective cover from the goodness within, quick strips pulled clean, set in a pile on the counter. How wondrous it is that however many years...

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