Our homeschool focus this summer is the 1960s (And maybe the ‘70s? It depends on how far we get!). We’ve decided to camp out in the land of bell bottoms, bouffant, and, as it turns out, some really good books.

Teatime is one of our Easter practices this year. It is nothing special, except that it is.

There is a deep and unexpected resonance between visiting the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati, OH last Friday and celebrating St. Patrick’s Day this Friday.

At the Freedom Center we bore witness to the stories of Black women, men, and children who were kidnapped, enslaved, and violated or born into the system of oppression. In preparing for St. Patrick’s Day, Henlee and I wrestled with the reality of Patrick’s own enslavement.

In both settings I was speechless in the wake of the horror.

But I was equally scandalized and rebuked by their hope.

This past Tuesday was the feast of saints Perpetua and Felicity (March 7). 

I had a passing hesitation as I got out our book of saints to share with our almost four-year-old daughter Henlee. Martyrs are martyrs because their trust in God’s Reality outweighed the horrific violence the world threw at them. 

I cannot help but feel the grief of it.

I kept a Seven Gratitudes journal every Friday of 2017. In searching for a way to practice gratitude today, the format just felt right. Today I am thankful…

The turn of the year sent us spiraling into the arms of shabbat. Not spiraling in an out-of-control roller coaster kind of way, but definitely in an out-of-control instinct kind of way. The Lord of the Sabbath called to us, whisking at our thirsty roots to sink down, burrow in, and be right here.

There is no controlling that capillary action. It’s either heed and drink or cease entirely.

Through every twist and turn, together. And that’s the difference. Grace dancing between and through this love, unveiling worlds and wonders and work we’d never catch alone…

Right before we ran out the door for our road trip I grabbed a bag of markers and ordinary index cards. I thought we’d make a postcard or something or in the very least have some coloring on standby in case of boredom.

But, I have to tell you, this was totally for me…

When friends come to visit, it’s all just absolutely right.

The last minute photo in the dark because when else, the bag of wet and muddy clothes because our kids kid so good together, the smiles that reached down to our toes with maybe at least one of us hiding a tiny tiny tear at the corner of an eye because we’re about to send them off…

As we wipe boogers, straighten rooms, do theology, and balance the books…