How can God stand our continual messing up? The same mistakes – over and over and over again throughout our lives.
The same excuses.
The same stubbornness.
The same posturing.
I grew up in a Jewish family. And I was bat mizvahed when I was 12. And that’s kind of how I was planning on living the rest of my life. And so when I started coming to Embrace, and I started hearing these things about Grace and Forgiveness and Kindness and Love. It hit home to me. And it hit me right in the heart because it was all of the things I had been looking for. And I was finally hearing them in this context.
Once the triplets were born, just the outpouring that we received… of just coming and holding babies, feeding, doing a load of laundry. We had a Small Group that adopted us and provided a meal once a week for the first year of their life. And it sounds like that’s not much of anything but we knew that that was one meal we didn’t have to thing about. It was such a blessing to us.
There was one local match to my query, and their website has an awesome interactive allergy page that gave me options of what we could eat. I was excited, very excited about this new option. I parked and picked up our youngest from daycare and ran into the downtown restaurant, wondering if I had enough hands to hold a large hot pizza box AND a baby who can walk but not follow directions.
Personalization is a defining characteristic of modern Western Culture. Whether it’s your clothes, your car, your social media pages, or even your pets, you can articulate anything in your life to resonate YOU. Uniqueness is a highly valued quality; so much so that the apparel industry is ripe with entrepreneurs looking to sell you whatever it is that you want to be identified by.
By the time I reached my mother, she was nearly unresponsive. She would open her eyes when I spoke but then they immediately rolled back into her head. The nurses said it was the morphine. Supposedly she could still hear me.
Once she was unresponsive, she did not eat or drink. There were no feeding tubes as this was hospice and, well, she was there to die.
I recently made a pilgrimage with my children to the place of little girls’ dreams, The American Girl Store. As we sat down to have lunch at the bistro, my 7-year-old, Avery, drew my attention to some cards on the table with questions to foster discussion.
“Alright,” I thought, and smiled. “This is my moment to practice what I preach and spend some quality time having a fun conversation with my kid.”
I consider myself to be a highly logical person so, when I signed up to take Introduction to Logic in college, I thought it would be fun and easy. It was neither. Instead, I found logic to be much more "mathy" than anticipated; and the other people in my class talked too much. Even though I struggled to get through the class, I actually come back to some of the concepts we covered fairly often.