Let’s party, for God’s sake

 

I can’t explain why the woman who was terrified of giving science project speeches now likes to stand in front of church and tells stories. But I am geeked to do so.

Yesterday was one of those days — I wish you could’ve been there. We made a party out of communion based on the mandate at the end of Esther that says Jews are to remember that God wins in the end.

Sycamore Creek Church, you’re a treat. My transcript follows. You’ll note I start with a video from “Star Wars.” Wonders never cease.

 

Watch first: “Return of the Jedi”

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‘I have no idea what comes next,’ I say. ‘Samesies,’ Mary would’ve said

346px-Master_of_the_Tiburtine_Sibyl_Crucifixion

Master of the Tiburtine Sibyl, Crucifixion, 1485; Detroit Institute of Art

Right now, the youngest is napping. Alice lays on her belly under a still-leafless maple; Violet sits cross-legged beside her with a stuffed rabbit in her lap. They’re so far out from my spot on the front stoop that I can’t hear them: this moment is parenting’s high-water mark. An Eastern phoebe’s returned to nest under our deck; bugs fly by and I’ve forgotten their names. Daffodils are three inches above ground. The world goes on knowing what to do and when to do it, but I’m on the stoop, wondering.

I carry around all these possibilities in my imagination. I stack them up on the dresser top beside me while I fold clothes, or lay on the windowsill while I wash dishes. I toy with moving to a house we would own in the city; moving to a suburb for the schools. I stack up the open-enrollment deadline for schools of choice; I consider visiting buildings I’m not excited about. Kindergarten open house and my will-be second-grader’s Tums in her pocket. Writing this book about “radical faith” with someone who once lived in an intentional community, and wondering how no one’s picked up yet that my past is much more predictable. I read tough books and wash a dozen loads of towels, toddler leggings, sweatshirts, and pillow cases every week.

All these possibilities, I carry around.

Aren’t humans the worst? Aren’t we, to be thinking of this while the world sings the Doxology; while flowers come up and buds open?

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Let’s laugh more in 2015

I remember holding that $10 bill in my hand along the five aisles of the grocery store in my hometown. The market’s now vacant, but at the time it offered us preteens a small freedom in that lonely town: only one highway and a train track separated us from buying a special dinner for our summer sleepover. Read more about Let’s laugh more in 2015[…]

If I could, I surely would, stand on the rock where Moses stood

Alice asked, “Why does he say ‘Mary, don’t you weep’?” One of Pete Seeger’s albums is on a three-disc repeat cycle in the van, and it’s a crowd favorite. The girls sing the words with more confidence the longer we listen, and this one — “O, Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you moan; Pharaoh’s army Read more about If I could, I surely would, stand on the rock where Moses stood[…]