In our house there is a regular interaction between Michael and I. Most often it goes like this:
I've been thinking a lot lately about the topic of worry. Life is so full of opportunities to step into it, and sometimes to stay there for far too long.
Walking down the street in Truckee California on a warm Thursday evening during Farmer’s Market, Michael and I came across this unique offering.
“I can’t get away with anything.!”
That is what our daughter Jenna would say growing up. She knew that if she did something she wasn’t supposed to do she would absolutely get caught.
It wasn’t a matter of if, just when.
Life is a series of moments. Time moving forward relentlessly, minute by minute, day by day.
Many go by unnoticed.
Then suddenly one moment jumps out. An observation made. Sudden clarity. A conversation that leaves a mark. A song that will forever conjure up place, time and circumstance.
Every once in a while, a song comes along with a lyric that moves you deeply.
It winds its way into your heart and soul. It seeps in and saturates.
It changes you.
Last week I had the privilege of having coffee with a woman in my church who reached out to me so she could ask my advice on parenting.
Unusual. But nice.
As a full-time working mom of an only child, let's just say that the moms who have asked for my advice have been few and far between.
I discovered I made a mistake with a client recently.
It was a decent sized mistake with implications and significant consequences.
This photo depicts the feeling I had. Shock, disbelief. A sense of "I can't believe what I'm seeing.
A print job that needed to be delivered for an important conference and was hung up at the printer. Not their fault. My fault. 100% my fault. A simple mistake. No chance it could get there in time.
Have you ever looked at a well-worn passage of the Bible and suddenly wondered if the prevailing teaching you have heard is actually right? Something gnaws at you. A sense that maybe there is another story that hasn’t been told.
I recently encountered this gnawing sense while working on a sermon I preached on March 10th. My passage was John 4, the well-known story of the Woman at the Well. The Samaritan woman.
The in between. The day after the shock and trauma of death.
The waking up, if sleep was had at all, to the brief hope that it was all a nightmare. Then the dawning thud of reality. He's not coming home. She's not coming home. Life as we know it has fundamentally shifted. We will never be the same.
The Day After.