Rage Against The Minivan

I've been keeping a big secret from the kids that I've know about for a year now . . . This summer, we are going on a family safari with National Geographic to Tanzania. I've been waiting to tell the kids because, as kids are, they are impatient with time. If I told them too early, they would get frustrated and their excitement would wane. We are about a month out from the trip and I decided now was the perfect time to reveal the trip. I decided to make them clue cards that would slowly . . .

I grew up in the church. My dad was a theologian and preacher. My husband was a pastor for almost a decade. I’ve seen the beauty of the church but also the dysfunction. Like any group of human people, church communities are unique and imperfect. It’s unfair to make broad strokes about all Christians based on the behavior of a few. But at the same time, when unhealthy patterns emerge, it’s important to talk about them so that these patterns don’t maintain damaging behaviors. One pattern that has . . .

Last week I gave an update on our house, and the messy and dusty state of things. I thought things were finally looking up. We had gotten past the point of sanding drywall, and I had hired a housekeeper to come and clean every surface. We mopped the floor, we cleaned out the closets, and we wiped out every kitchen cabinet. The kitchen was finally installed and I thought that an end to our gritty existence was in sight. The kids were really excited because the kitchen was installed with a blue . . .

My grandfather (or Pop-Pop, as we called him) was generally a gruff and grumpy guy who disliked being around people and noise. He lived with our family during his last years, an arrangement and a phase of life that was extremely difficult for him. But he loved Letterman. So much that he would go to bed at 6pm, set an alarm for 11:30, wake up and watch Letterman, and then go back to sleep. This was despite us repeatedly offering to set the VCR timer for him. I could often hear laughter coming . . .

Over the past month, as our home renovation continues, we’ve been in and out of hotels. We have tried to live at home for the duration, but every few days we will hit a wall in our ability to tolerate the noise/dust/crew/chaos, and one of us will announce that we have to stay in a hotel before we become a danger to self and others. We are living out of suitcases no matter where we are, but at a hotel at least there is carpet and no hacking cough from breathing in ambient sawdust. Mark and I used . . .