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mudroom

At other places
Perhaps this is its own letting go
February 5, 2018 at 6:00 am 0
  There are times in your life where all the good that you've taught your children may come  home to roost. Where you realize you've been caught by the one or two good things you've imparted to your kids. These are the times when you see the tendency in your own self -- in this case, to be right -- as a joint failing. It's hard seeing sin passed down. And yet on the other side of needing to be right -- or whatever your particular issue is -- there is, we pray, a pathway made. A path for us to walk as we both mature and grow. You're making the routes for the future you and the future child to walk alongside together. And for that to happen you have to say I'm sorry. You have to learn to let go.   Here's a bit of that story that's up today at The Mudroom:   

We were walking in to church: my brood of children and I. I’d actually managed the impossible trifecta: hair done, makeup done, dressed appropriately (usually only one or two gets checked off the list daily). My three younger children were already hanging by their fingernails off of the plastic slide, but my eldest walked away in front of me, a bit sullen.

“You’re not owning up to it! You yelled at me,” he said, stomping off a few paces ahead of me.

He was, of course, referencing the time not five minutes previous where I’d deepened my voice to let him know his behavior was not on point. Reader, I hadn’t yelled, instead I’d deepened my voice — and he wasn’t praising me for the way I had my anger in check and my emotions under control.

  Read the rest here.
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At other places
Finding My Place; Oh, and, Guacamole
July 11, 2017 at 6:00 am 0

When I finished writing my book and turned in Finding Holy in the Suburbs for edits, I felt a bit out-of-place. I'd expected to have all the stories to belong to the place I lived. After buying our rental home, I'd expected more permanence. It turns out that place and belonging are wrapped up together in a relationship as confusing as an on-again off-again relationship.

So, today, I'm so excited to be at The Mudroom writing about place and belonging. Place is so often the lens through which I view life -- so much so that my recent move home to the suburbs meant I wrote a book all about it. Make sure to keep up this month at The Mudroom for all the great writing and maybe it'll help you find a bit of your place, too.

Here's an excerpt:

We ask our places to provide a setting, a context — but we do not love them like a full-bodied character with desires of their own. What if our places were not mere settings that we could shape like silly putty, bending them to our desires? What if they were not expendable, plastic containers where we stored our stuff and housed our memories, where we are apt to change places like a quick change of seasonal decor?

What if our land, our cities, our suburbs, were somehow as real, as vivid, as powerful agents of change as the people in them? What if our places were actually holy?

//

I suppose it’s nice to think deeply about such things as place, space, land, and humanity. Yet it’s an easy out to actually living well, to being emplaced, bodily creatures. (At least it is for me.) My feet are rooted (most often) in gray tile squares in my suburban kitchen. Here I watch the neighborhood children race by on their neon bikes, I shout to my own children to come inside, I sweep the endless crumbs. I cut and chop. I pile dishes. I scoop out coffee grinds into the trash, get the stray lime out from the disposal, and dry the clean knife blade and put it away because it’s the good one. I turn out meal after meal after meal, sometimes digging in the freezer to fill it out, often adding more garlic, more pepper, and fresh cilantro.

Hurry on over to read the rest, because you better believe I give you a killer guacamole recipe!!


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