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Showing posts from May, 2013

space for what matters.

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When Jasper was born, he had colic and only wanted to sleep in his car seat with the visor down. Three months later, he was amenable to a rocking basinet that propped him upright a bit and snuggled him on either side. There he slept until he was over the weight limit and capable of crawling out.
We started with the crib up high and then down low when he became curious and mobile. Last Christmas it converted to a toddler bed and he could get in and out on his own. Now he’s inherited my goddaughter's IKEA bed. He sleeps a floor above us at the new house and loves it.
You might call this the opposite of attachment parenting. Until last night, I’d never slept in bed with Jasper and I only sleep in the same room with him when we're traveling. Sure, he’s fallen asleep on my chest a bazillion times before being mysteriously transported to his own bed, but we never wake up together at home. While bed sharing works great for many people (and I admit – I’m impressed by their hospitali…

comfort.

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I made so many good cases for taking off the socks this morning.  He's been wearing them for days.  They stink. They're sweaty. It's humid. They look ridiculous.
But they stayed on. I dropped him off at school and blessed the teacher with a few words for context: 
We moved on Saturday. He's being a trooper and we're talking through the transitions, but there are a few things he's clinging to for comfort. Moose Socks are two of them. Be aware that he will want to make sure the moose can "see" at all times, so they need to be pulled up high enough for the "googley eyes" to show.
We've all got our things. I needed a rod to hang clothes in my new closet. Matt needs the garage to not look like a hazardous waste tsunami. Jasper needs to wear his Moose Socks all.the.time.  (We splashed in some puddles on the sidewalk after dinner tonight, so they got all muddy and he finally wanted them off. Wash, Mommy. Make clean, please.Gladly.)
Jasper is ad…

helium.

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So many balloons.

We long to bring something tangible. Human begins are wired for ritual and spacial celebration. These things transcend religion and culture. We need to gather when we grieve. We want to offer something that makes our presence worthy and of good use.

The media is hounding three women and their families. They are camped outside, stalking and watching and hovering, waiting to ask them what it feels like to be free. Ha. Sounds to me like they're still trapped behind those balloons and the best intentions of the clueless and curious.

These girls don't need your rained-on dollar store stuffed animals. They don't need balloons that will deflate before the crowds do. They don't need 24-hour news coverage or people treating them like they're still 14 years old.

I don't know what they do need, but that's not my job. There are plenty of loved ones and professionals handy to help them sort that out.

Instead, I am in the business of knowing what the c…

welcome.

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I was pitting out and awkward until this very moment. And then all was calm. And funny.  I stopped sweating and I started laughing.
It didn't feel like my wedding day  while someone stuck fake eyelashes on my face  or while dear friends gathered, hair teased.  But it felt like my wedding day hours later -  once Matt found me in a quiet back yard and made me smile.
I am blessed to love the one I'm with.  Those who are  know the deep power and wide gift of partnership. I did not have to fight for this day  or prove my love  or receive less than others. It was given freely  just like the vows we exchanged that day.
Today I am blessed by the love of a state and its leaders who are brave in saying YES to love and marriage... for everyone who loves the one they're with for everyone who wishes to say I DO for everyone who yearns to carry the whole promise - all the joy and the sorrow, the grace and the work just like us.
There is room for all of us in this moment and this love. I…

wide love.

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On Thursday, Minnesota's legislators will cast votes about marriage.  Minnesotans have two days to contact their leaders with thoughtful encouragement. 

God of love, there is room for all of us in your Kingdom. You have made space for justice and peace, equity and hope. You have declared that we are no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female - we are all one in Christ Jesus, called to treat one another with that same holy love you have shown us. May we vote and live that mercy on Thursday. Show us how to make space for justice and peace, equity and hope, so that your Kingdom may be seen and known right here and now in Minnesota. Amen.
To read my blog about last November's (Anti)Marriage Amendment, click here.

pre-broken.

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I paused before saying the words of institution a few Wednesdays ago. I was choosing which piece to hold up while talking about the promises that come with Jesus broken. On Wednesdays, the bread comes pre-broken because we're using leftovers from Sunday morning.


When I was little, my dad used to make leftover omelets. They were generally gross or adventurous - all items you normally wouldn't see in an omelet. If a food made it into the omelet, that was a last resort - it had no other options and this was likely its last day alive before Mom tossed it. I'm pretty sure my dad is void of tastebuds, so his ability to create and eat (and actually enjoy) them came in handy when it was time to clean out the fridge before a grocery run.

Regular non-omelet leftovers are the best. You already know what you're getting and there's something sentimental and familiar about coming back to that same meal again. You heat it up and remember having it for the first time. There's …