Rage Against The Minivan

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 . . .

Yesterday we went to dinner and my girls started playing with my phone and sunglasses. And then, in turn, they decided to do their best impression of me.   Three things:1. Yes, I do talk with a little bit of vocal fry. Yes, I’ve lived in SoCal for 20 years and some of the local accent can be detected in my voice. But I think they’ve taken some dramatic license here. 2. Playing a video game on my phone is a thing I HAVE NEVER DONE. Nor do I really play any game apps at all. But being on . . .

I met Jillian Lauren several years ago. We had an immediate kinship because we were both writers and adoptive moms. Over the past few years, our families have grown to be friends, and she and I got to go to Ethiopia together last year. Here’s Jillian and I last month with our hero Bob Goff because life is weird and wonderful.  Jillian is an incredible writer. I read her first book, an account of her life in a Harem in Brunei, in just a couple of days. I was so riveted by her story, but . . .