Side notes: First of all, thanks to those of you who shared glimpses from personal experience—I am honored by your honesty. You round out the discussion in ways I cannot. I want you to know that in all I say, I am not trying to pressure anyone into a box. My goal is not to […]
A room in the house Read More »
Confession: Sometimes I think that being Mennonite is like being part of a big butte out west. That’s what my husband says. When you look at a butte, you think—Whoa, where’d that growth come from? What subterranean forces heaved it out of the earth? But it didn’t grow at all. At one point the whole
Mennonites and metaphors Read More »
I see some of us are still frozen with horror at the idea that anyone would actually love being a Mennonite. Or not love being a Mennonite. I said “sometimes,” alright then? I didn’t mean to sound arrogant, as though Mennonites have a corner on church life. I recently heard Anabaptists described as the “vanguard
Mennonites and gender Read More »
Confession: Sometimes I love being Mennonite. This is not a popular thing to love nowadays, and I confess I don’t love it always. Sometimes I do. Our congregation has been working for some time on hammering out what we call our “covenant”—our statements of faith and practice. This spring we had four issues at hand:
Mennonites and music Read More »
Today, I offer a buffet of a few things I’ve been reading and viewing recreationally these last weeks. Enjoy! ***** Why Women Should Embrace a Good Enough Life, by Elsa Walsh Enamored of the feminist movement as a young woman, Ms. Walsh discusses how it looks to her now, at age 55. Source: The Washington
What do children think of, waiting for the train to start? Why do they even have that dark tunnel? Why does the giraffe wrap his tongue around the railing? He does it every year. How did my baby get so big so fast? I am shattered by her pigtails. Erie Zoo, Erie Pennsylvania
Train ride at the Erie Zoo Read More »
Confession: It’s a good thing I joked about coming off antidepressant meds while I still could—while it was fuzzy and funny. I wasn’t laughing two weeks later. I thought I was losing my mind. But I’d rather not think about that so much now—only say hence, six blog posts in three weeks. I can’t write when
In [amazon_link id=”0440414806″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Holes[/amazon_link] by Louis Sachar, Stanley Yelnats is sentenced to eighteen months at a boys’ penitential camp, where each boy must dig a five-foot hole in the desert every single day. Five feet across in every direction, five feet deep. “If you take a bad boy and make him dig a hole every
Confession: I’m so happy to have my son Aarick home from school for the summer; it means some super hired help. [evil chuckle] Let the games chores begin. Really though, I’m grateful for more reasons than that. I find it delightful having a son old enough to crack jokes, carry on near-adult conversations, and work
I’ll sing you a song A song of a mother A song of a mother who couldn’t. Her name was Barb. For seven years she yearned for a child, prayed and agonized and beat on heaven’s door. WHY CAN’T I HAVE ONE, ONE OF MY OWN? He gave her seven, and the second she named
Song of an average mother Read More »