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Christmas Eve Chaos: The One Where We Went to Church Dirty and Avoided Our Friends
The morning of Christmas Eve 2019 in NorCal started like any other: frosty, sparkly, and bulging with practical anticipation. But the way it ended messed with my mind pride in ways I didn’t think possible. Without fail, every Christmas Eve of my whole life consisted of the same things: nice clothes, hair-sprayed hair, and a calmness about the impending church service. Cramming into as few cars as possible with aunts, uncles and grandparents, we drove the rainy or snowy roads to a large church and settled in. I was always happy to see people we knew, especially since we smelled great and looked put together. We chose seats toward the…
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Young Bride, Thick Pride: Choosing to Stay
I never excelled in math. So the first time someone told me having small kids was when the days dragged and the years flew, it didn’t make sense. But I loved it. Exactly! Someone finally understands the weird time warp. I occasionally feel the same in my marriage. Since working and writing and constantly feeding my people, individual days don’t usually drag. But over the years I’ve caught myself in the middle of a particularly rough marriage patch thinking, “How many more years is it going to be like this?” And then last week I woke up and thought, “How did we get here?” If you think you have a…
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Praying for Closed Doors
“I don’t know which college to pick. I got into these two schools and I like them equally, but I’m afraid to pick the wrong one.” When we ran a GAP-year program in Baja, MX, each class of students lived with us from August to June. They were all recent high school graduates and no one had lived away from home yet. Tied in knots between quality universities, we watched them makes lists of pros and cons and worry for weeks, sometimes months. Cal Baptist or Moody? Point Loma or Liberty? Baylor or Westmont? Azusa or Biola? If you attended one of those schools, you most likely have a gut…
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Back to Work, Back to Reality
His calm voice sounded kind, but his words surprised me. “We’re spending too much and not bringing in enough. I think we need you to start working.” My husband was right, mostly, but the hardest part of his comment was that I already feel like I work. I wish my writing provided a full-time, regular income, but while keeping up a blog and writing a book pushes me forward, neither are helping our bottom line at the moment. I countered with logic. “I’m happy to work a conventional job, but don’t you think we could just cut some corners and spend less?” “Maybe a little, but I want to go out…
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Lord of the Flaws
Though some exasperated parents might joke about dropping their sassy Tweens on an island, I’m fairly certain no parent would want the experience to resemble William Golding’s version. My son brought home his 7th-grade required reading list last month. I scanned it, unfazed until I reached the one title that zipped me right back to my 7th-grade English class and made me cringe. Lord of the Flies still remains one of my all-time least-loved books. Ever. Visions of being totally grossed out to the max and putting it down after reading each chapter still linger. Bloodthirsty boys painting their faces, stalking a beast, killing pigs, and eventually turning on some…
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Your Hoopie’s Showing
My grandma. So sweet and helpful. If you ever wore a necklace in her presence and the clasp slid around toward the front, she was your girl. “Oh here, honey, let me help you. Your hoopie’s showing.” I naturally learned from an early age how hoopies should be on the back of my neck and only the back. Letting them rotate to the front looked unkept/disheveled. I also learned wrinkled clothing was a no-no. From t-shirts and jeans to knickers and parachute pants, everything qualified. Does this give you hives? Let’s be clear though: I’m still a fan of ironed clothes if I’m going somewhere that demands a grown-up…
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Gym Rookie: Humbled Under the Barbell
My doctor told me women my age should lift weights. Pause right there. “Women my age?” One perk of moving back to suburbia is living within a few miles of my former gym. Since I took my membership card to Mexico twelve years ago, and then brought it back, I figured I’d take a shot and see if I still existed in their system. Week One: I opened the glass door in a slightly self-conscious manner and approached a young, over-bubbly staff member. “Hi! Can I help you?” “Uhh, yes… are there a maximum amount of years you’ll hold a frozen account?” “I don’t think so. Let me…
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Adjusting the Scales of Honesty: Do White Lies Count?
“Hey, boys—throw this blanket on top of the sacks. And make sure you get the corners.” I cringed in opposition. Did he just involve our children in a hidden importation? I turned my head to the west and spaced out while he drove. Lest you feel the urge to judge, think about this: if you were taking a twenty-dollar item across the border, would you be willing to pull over and pay a six-hundred-dollar fee for it? Behold, one of my most humbling posts ever. Thoughts of a corrupt government, two years of paying 16% taxes, border agents who charge whatever they’re feeling like that day, and insane importation…
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Gossip: Loose Lipps Sink Ships
“Some say our national pastime is baseball. Not me. It’s gossip.” ~ Erma Bombeck When he welcomed us into his rad classroom, we eighth graders knew we finally made it to the top. To be in Mr. Lipps’ class meant we got the cool English teacher. Of all my junior high classes, this particular one simultaneously thrilled and unnerved me. The middle-aged, borderline hippie spoke with authority and sauntered between our desks with an abundance of confidence. His “Loose Lipps Sink Ships” poster spanned the width of one wall and sat higher than our heads when we stood. It struck me as deep… forward-thinking… high school-ish. And I had no idea…
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