Sugar and Spice

"Repentance breaks our hearts a little." I'm not sure whether it is an exact quote or just a very close paraphrase from the sermon I heard Sunday. That sermon - that church - that moment was one of those times I knew I was right where I was supposed to be and that hearing someone saying something God needed me to hear. Repentance is not for those who fancy themselves a mighty fortress. Repentance is also not for the weak - which is what I have been despite my best efforts otherwise. Repentance is for the brave and faithful. Because repentance will break us - it has to break us - because only when we break does Christ have a way to enter. And that is what Advent is about - Christ entering our lives. He has already entered once, thousands of years ago, on Christmas morning. He IS risen - meaning He wants to enter our lives each and every day and just awaits the opening we prepare. And He is going to come again to call all of his creation back to Him. This is the thril

There has been a lot of talk lately about winning and the costs of winning. It is apparent from any news source that the battles lines have been clearly drawn and politics is no longer (was it ever?) about doing good or right. It is about winning. Winning at any cost and at all costs. I have to admit I find it hard to watch the news since I've become a mother and even more so lately, as a mother of girls. What do I tell them about society? How do I convince them (myself?) that there is good? Better question, is there good? How do I explain the proclamation of victory made by people who have hurt others, whose "win" has cost someone their dignity, their rights, their safety? How can I insure that same price is never paid at the expense of my daughters? I have to remind myself that the real battle has already been won, though it has not been completed. Though it is not near, we know the end. It is done. Jesus was and is victorious and he will come again to claim that vi

Today is the first official day of summer break for the girls. We all got to sleep in a little and still had time for crafts and smoothie-making before I had to leave for work. It is always hard to leave, but this morning was something more. I felt almost paralyzed as I went to kiss them goodbye. I had to fight back tears and try not to squeeze them too tight or too long, which would give away my heart-gripping fear of letting them go at all. After the events of the weekend, the last few weeks, the last few years, I have finally had to come to terms with the fact that I am raising my beautiful girls in a world where they are not safe. They are not safe at school, not safe at sleepovers, just simply not safe. I have always counted myself so fortunate to have been born, merely by chance, in this country. But now, now my heart aches much like I imagine mothers' hearts in third world nations have ached for years. I have to acknowledge that my country allows children to be killed a

It's been a while... Seems I always start that way. But now it's Lent and part of what I am doing is slowing down, writing, being. It's hard. The being part. Just being. Not worrying about where else I should be or who wants me doing what. Over the years, I've gotten pretty good at never stopping. It's become a source of pride almost - look at all that I can do! Throw in something else if you dare! I can do it all. So far I've been able to do just that, but at what cost? More importantly, why? Why must I do it all? Have I allowed the fear of disappointing someone with a "no" or "not me" take priority over savoring the moments of nothingness, stillness? Or have I grown afraid of the stillness, the quiet? One of the devotionals I try to read regularly challenged readers to summarize their spiritual journeys in a sentence. Without much thought, the words to Amazing Grace popped in my head. Yet, this time the words did not really