Ritual for even the smallest fingers

The congregation I serve has an annual Turnings Service, recognizing the births, deaths, and other transitions in our community.  

This service is meaningful and emotional for many, and we encourage older children and youth to attend.

For our youngest children we have Turnings, Too- a parallel chapel service where we talk about the turning of the year and all that may have changed in our lives. For each sharing the children can drop a glass bead into this dish of water--light blue for the joys, and the darker colors for the struggles of life.

Every child has known joy and sadness. They welcome new cousins and aunts and cats and turtles into their lives. They feel the loss of death, of friends moving away, of changing family configurations. They recognize that some things are a mix of good and bad--a hospital stay and then recovering, missing loved ones while on a long but exciting trip.

And we build community in our sharing, knowing that church is a place where people want to celebrate our joys with us, support us through our struggles, and take interest in our hopes and dreams. 

I Can't Adult! Sermon 6/28/15

Given at Emerson Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston on June 28, 2015

Working from a place of playfulness, we had sermon bingo cards with fabulous prizes, choose your own adventure hymns, a time for all ages to share their childhood lovies, and our readings included Hyperbole and a Half's This Is Why I'll Never Be an Adult and Shel Silverstein's Listen to the Mustn'ts.

The aisle signs in grocery stores can be helpful--and existential. I saw one that said Adult Cereal.
I wondered --Is this cereal X-, or just R-rated? What shape are those puffs? Maybe it just has adult themes like… cannibalism or estate planning.

And yes, Kids Cereal was also an option. Careful investigation revealed that Kids Cereal means sugar and prizes and fun shapes and colors. Adult Cereal means… fiber.

Growing up is supposed to be Good For You. Make the sensible multigrain choice and don’t let it bother you that it’s beige and boring and an awful lot to chew.

Answer your email. Go to the bank and the grocery store. Clean all the things. Work. Pay the bills. Run the errands.
And do it all again tomorrow.

Above all, be mature. Mature is black slacks, polished shoes, matching socks. Mature is always on task, and serious all the time.

Who wants to sign up for all of that?? Truly, if it’s about drudgery and misery and never-ending responsibility, I Can’t Adult.

I am a proud member of Generation X. Born from the early 60s to the early 80s, we are stereotyped as disaffected slackers with a propensity toward flannel. Our generation came of age between wars and our parents were more likely to be dual income or even divorced. We were called the latch-key kids.

At this point, the youngest GenXers are in their thirties, and my oldest compatriots have hit their fifties. We’re old enough that our music shows up on Classic Rock stations. Heck, I am getting to the point where I’m looking forward to IHOP Senior Specials. And yet…

I used to think that I would wake up one morning and adulthood would make sense. Somehow I would have downloaded some sort of Competence program and instantly, I would be able to DEAL WITH IT.

In the meantime, a lot of us feel like we are faking it at being grown-ups. That at any second someone will discover us for the quivering frauds we are.


And here’s the secret—this isn’t just my generation. Many people older than I am have admitted to these same feelings…maybe not as loudly, and with a little less flannel.

Paul, in a letter to the Corinthians, says,

 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

Every time I read Paul’s letters, I find myself arguing with him. In this case, why is childish such a bad thing?

Let’s start with the childish things we shared at the beginning of the service—our comfort objects. The stuffed animals and favorite pillows and blankets—these things serve a real purpose when life is hard. When you are terrified by illness and chaos, mourning losses both personal and global, you need some comfort. Something soft is a sweet start.Our culture tells us to deny ourselves comfort—that’s ridiculous. The Inherent Worth of Oneself gets lost in the to-do lists, the laundry, the needs of the baby the job the bills the struggle.

Yes, we must be careful that our comfort does not abuse another or ourselves, but it is also abusive to stick to stoicism, and to a rugged individualism that says you must handle it all yourself.

What if what we set aside was the Mythology of Grown-up and instead embrace some of these childish things?

As we reflect, know that I’m do not mean Misplaced Nostalgia—we’re not going back to an ‘easier time’—life is always challenging at all ages and stages, and childhood is not always happy. But what do we abandon when we leave childhood? What is dismissed as unimportant that might actually be a strength?

Edwin Friedman, a rabbi and therapist, was a real expert on how people tick and the various illusions that many of us believe to be true. One of these myths is that seriousness is deeper than playfulness.

Being playful is important. It is creative and freeing and welcoming. And as Friedman puts it, “playfulness can get you out of a rut more successfully than seriousness.”

So we have this Sunday service with bingo cards. A webcomic as a reading. Heck- there’s a word scramble in your order of service, and coloring pages to take home.

Playfulness opens us to JOY. How often do we let ourselves be really and truly happy, even if in tiny doses. There should be no waiting for someday when it comes to joy. Celebrate whatever you can. Children celebrate their birthday, their half-birthday, new shoes, pancakes, puddles, caterpillars.


And joy often accompanies Wonder.

<excerpt from Clark Dewey Wells's You Be Glad At That Star>

Be curious.
Forever learning.

As Unitarian Universalists, we hold that revelation is ongoing—new truths are always being revealed. When we throw on blinders, when we declare ourselves to be done learning, we hold in our very humanity.

Ours is a faith of Lifespan Learning-book clubs and adult religious education, and so many of us are reading or taking classes or discovering a new hobby. Most of our Sunday school teachers tell me that they sign up not because they feel obligated, but because they always learn something from the experience—from the curriculum and from the children and youth in the room.

Life will always have uncertainty. A spirit of curiosity keeps us vibrant and gives us hope.

And boy howdy, but we need hope.

Our five-year old selves knew that we could sing and dance and paint and be astronaut cowboy doctor unicorn-riding rock stars.

Somehow, over the years, many of us give these things up—pared away by scarcity of time but also by criticism and self-doubt.

We are continuously chastised for being Too Much and Not Enough

Have you ever been told that you are too loud?
Not talented enough?
Too angry?
Not ambitious enough?
Too weird?
Not happy enough?
Too pushy?
Not attractive enough?
What else?

And the lower your prestige and privilege, the more you get these messages. Stay in your place. Keep your head down. Do not cause trouble.

Dear ones—you are not too much. You are you and that is good and that is more than enough. And yes, I will write you that as a note if you need it, for your mirror or your wallet or your Facebook wall.

In the 1976 film Network, newscaster Howard Beale delivers that iconic line-
“I’m as MAD AS HELL and I’m not going to take it anymore!”

That, my friends, is the default setting of a young child. As little ones, we throw tantrums when we are angry, we wail when we are sad or hurt or afraid.

Over the years, our culture socializes us to tone it down. Be polite. Keep the peace. Girls, especially, are told they cannot show anger...or people won't like you. Boys are told that tears are an unacceptable show of weakness—Man Up.

Oof.

Are any of us allowed an honest expression of our emotions? Can we say what we think, or must we carefully couch our terms and remain so reasonable? Be polite. It is a calmer existence, but it values the status quo over change, manners over justice.

Children are passionate beings and fairness is critically important to them. Yes, this starts with the personal—Mom, he got a bigger piece of cake than me! But they pay careful attention to wider issues—they notice how people are treated, and they are so very disturbed to see injustice. They do not minimize or reason it, pointing out the complexity of the situation. They see that it is wrong, and they want to know why, and how it might be fixed.

Using this passionate eye to justice, let’s return to that Network quote with a bit more context.




That’s a 1976 film. A whole lot of it still applies. What else comes to mind?

*Black Lives Matter – the extrajudicial executions of people of color by police, the burning of six African American churches in the past week, the assassination of an African American senator minister and eight other souls in an AME church in Charleston and still the Confederate Flag flies?

*While the Obergefell decision brings marriage equality across the land, many LGBTQ people are still denied basic rights of fair employment, life, and dignity. Trans folk, especially trans women, are being killed for who they are, then misgendered in police reports and the news. Nearly half of homeless teenagers are homeless because their parents kicked them out when they came out.

*Americans are increasingly financially insecure. Laid off when oil prices drop or industry moves elsewhere, buried in spiraling student debt, caught in stagnant wages. The minimum wage in 1976 went up to $2.30 …adjusted for inflation, that’s a little over $9/hr today. Better than our current $7.25.

When faced with the hurts and seemingly insurmountable problems of the world today, it is so very easy to flail, and to curl up in a ball in our safe living rooms. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel powerless and oh so small—I Can’t Adult! What can one person do?

This despair comes when I believe the lie of independence, a myth both pernicious and paralyzing. We all need help. We all need connection—to be part of an endeavor, to have friends, and to be held in circles of caring.

And big goals need many hands and many hearts and many minds. On the front of every order of service, on our website, our newsletter, you will find Emerson UU Church’s statement of identity— Our beloved community of faith, reason, and affection welcomes all to grow in mind and spirit as we build a better world.

Cindy Beal, one of my wise colleagues, reminds us that

The arc of the moral universe bends toward justice, and usually it's because we bend it….
The goal of justice has to be all of us, my people. And what if our goal was to create a society in which no one ever had to say "Stop killing us."
Every single person deserves dignity, respect, and physical, mental, and even emotional and spiritual safety and embodied joy. Yes, joy. We can set goals that are based on healthy embodied joy. That's what I'm aiming for.

Can you imagine a world where we set goals based on the healthy embodied joy of every person?

Embracing the strengths of childhood, of playfulness and joy, wonder, and authentic emotion, honoring our passion for justice, how might we build that better world? What do our five-year old selves call us to do?

Many things.

One, of course, is our upcoming LGBTQ Wedding Day—around the church you’ll find these gray panels of paper. Before you leave today, please draw a happy picture or write your congratulations to the couples who will be married here two weeks from yesterday. The papers will become the window coverings in rooms upstairs where these couples will make the final preparations for their long awaited ceremonies.

Out in the Gathering Place we’ve got a sign-up table for volunteers, with opportunities before and during the event, a chance to use your favorite or long-neglected talents and passions to bring joy to others.

And next Sunday, the Reverend Chuck Freeman will be in this pulpit, to share the uniquely Texan story of Mary and James Billings, Universalists who spread their message of justice over a hundred years ago, and more on our Texas Unitarian Universalist Justice Ministry, working with state legislators to bring about equality, peace, and compassion in this vast and complicated state.

In the meantime, dream big and talk with others here—what makes your heart sing with possibility? How will you share your joy and wonder with a world that needs it?

Where We Sleep

There's a lobster in my bed.

It's proof that at least one of my sons was in the house today--otherwise I might not know. I left for work in the morning and they were off to a party before I got home. They called a few minutes ago to ask if they could spend the night with their hosts. So my partner and I get the house to ourselves. 

It was not so long ago that a night without the boys was nearly impossible--and now they are teens eager to have their own adventures.

I could wax poetic about milestones and the passing of time, lament about their eventual leavings, but hey, we have the house to ourselves!

Summer Projects

The last day of school here was May 28th. 

My teen sons settle into new routines easily, and they're happily considering what they'd like to do this summer.
Beyond playing video games until their eyes bleed...

Rumor has it that firstborn will be making the squid body pillow and using his Raspberry Pi for a project I have yet to comprehend.

Secondborn has been going through his science lab kits, making note of the dangerous chemicals. He'd really like to work on fire starting, but not when there's no adult at home. 

So his project today was a first attempt at a flower press. The wood is plaques they made years ago when we were studying the Jewish and Christian Bibles. Both boys chose Judge Not for their enscription, not as a grand theological statement, but because it was the shortest option available. 

Hidden Talents

My sons often play video games while talking to friends online. They have headsets so we do not have to hear the whole gaggle and the game.  

But this also means that to get their attention we have to raise our voices.
Or toss a beanie baby (or small throw pillow or sock) in their general direction.

It turns out that I have pretty good aim from the loft upstairs.

The Unlikely Tools of Ministry

Confiscated water balloon, 9:50 AM

The preschool lesson involved balloons today, so one of my sons inflated a dozen for that classroom.

Balloons are among the most attractive of my ministry tools. They can be bounced up and around. The ends fit on our fingertips. An untied balloon can be released to fly off crazily, or stretched to make all sorts of ridiculous noises. We use them for cooperation and bonding, for science and music and energy breaks.

The minute one class has balloons, ALL the classes want balloons. And they want to take them throughout the church. We work hard on appropriate behavior, but manners just can't compare with the joy of playing with a balloon. 

And if someone finds a water source, suddenly there's a water balloon. And then everyone needs their own--water balloons are more popular than two-bite brownies.

We needn't outlaw joy. Sometimes, though, we need a few boundaries to make sure we don't trip or soak bystanders.

The Way of Things

Meanest Mom Ever
is a title that works better
when your kid's not sick.

You don't tell a kid
Mostly dead for half the day

to tidy the room.

But soon.

Pictures from the Journey

It's been a rough and somewhat surreal week, after a medical emergency put my son in the ICU.

Here are a few random pics from the past few days.



It was Pi Day. I had grand plans.
Settled for a piece of strawberry rhubarb and the  Little Caesar's bacon wrapped pizza.

Yes, we will take a do-over to observe this important holiday once everyone is on the mend.






These trees in the Medical Center have netting along the bottoms of the canopy. Holding in the leaves, and maybe keeping the birds from too much nesting? This is what I noticed while the paramedics were slow getting my son out of the back of the ambulance as his blood pressure had dropped. It was also the last time I would go outside for about two days.






Our time in the ICU was too much for many pictures, especially since no cell phones were allowed. The Progressive Care Unit (PCU - a step-down from the ICU) had the same restriction, but I had a little more time to notice what was around me. Here's a Get Well 'quilt' made from sticky notes.

And this is an actual quilt created by various patients, nurses, doctors, and techs of the PCU. It's a varied quilt...












The teardrop in the middle of this picture is not a design on that building- it's a ladybug inside the window, up on the seventh floor. We hung out together for a couple of days.







Now we're in a 'regular' room, and I am just so impressed by all the little touches the whole hospital does to try to make patient and family lives a little brighter (in addition to providing some of the best medical care in the world.) The woman who tidies rooms and changes linens? She makes towels into animal shapes. I stopped in my tracks and had to smile when I saw this elephant.


Yes, he's on the mend. No, I'm not posting pictures of him in this ordeal, unless he decides he would like me to do that.

Finding Comfort

Behold pink bunny and Snoopy, two of the comfort objects of my childhood. 

Pink bunny was once much pinker and much whiter, with a soft fur all over. Now you can only find evidence of that fur within the folds of her ears. Her nose was felt I think, and left us years ago. 

Snoopy, over the years, has lost an ear and various seams have burst open. At this point he might have more mends than original stitching. And while he's gotten quite dingy, I don't dare put him in the wash.

I am not Linus trailing his blanket. Mostly these comfort objects sit in our guest bedroom, more objects of nostalgia than anything else.

At the same time, I feel no need to take away someone's lovey. Indeed, why would we deny someone comfort? Perhaps we give the object some boundaries, but really, life is hard enough.

Horses, Zebras, and the Likelihood of Trampling

We headed to the pediatrician this morning.

When I called for an appointment, I was asked if we'd traveled outside the country recently. (No.)
There was a sign at reception stating that they needed to know if we'd gone to one of a few African nations. (No.)
Ah-hah. Ebola questions.




They did not ask if my son had received a flu shot (yes) or been exposed to anyone with the flu (not that we know of, but geez, the high school is big.)

Pediatric Ebola deaths in Texas this year? 0.
Pediatric flu deaths in Texas this season? 12.

Image provided by Walgreens and the Department of State Health Services -http://www.dshs.state.tx.us/immunize/flu.shtm

The Smartest Thing I Ever Did As A Parent...

...was letting my children know that risotto is an impressive and delicious dish.

Even when they required a step ladder to reach the stove top, they would happily take turns stirring the pot, adding ladles of stock as needed. Secondborn, especially, was eager to learn to make the dish all by himself. It's pretty awesome when someone else makes dinner*.

With broth in the freezer or pantry, we always have the basics handy. And it turns out that risotto can be a vehicle for any number of unfamiliar things--squashes, greens, and cheeses sharper than they'd usually choose. 

We just made a big batch with butternut squash, mushrooms, and Manchego.
Tomorrow's dinner is done.


*When the boys go off to college, I might try some baked risotto recipes. For now, this works.

A Theology of #SexUUality

Unitarian Universalists have a long history of courage in tackling issues around human sexuality—from campaigning for human rights, to pioneering innovative work in the Our Whole Lives sexuality curriculum… join #UUs this month for a discussion of sex–the challenging parts, the beautiful parts, the spiritual parts, and even the downright goofy parts. UU or not, everyone is welcome to join in the conversation this month at #sexUUality

Most Sunday School offices have shelves of curriculum binders, books, and other resources. Years ago, inventorying my inherited cabinet, I found fifty-three Bibles, a half dozen recycling guides, most every UUA curriculum... and then I came across what looked like a small black laptop bag. The label on the front was something nondescript like "Educator Kit."

I unzipped the bag and laughed as a wooden "condom demonstrator" and a dozen condoms fell to the floor.  Further investigation showed a wider variety of contraceptives and other resources.

In partnership with the United Church of Christ, the Unitarian Universalist Association puts a lot of resources into producing Our Whole Lives (OWL), a comprehensive sexuality education program for people at all ages and stages of life. The materials are fact-based, facilitator training is required, and there's a strong emphasis on community-building and dialogue.

In our current social climate of purity education, legislation against women's reproductive rights, and so much discrimination, faith-based sexuality education can seem a ridiculous combination.

But I assure you--this is deeply theological work. Speaking to what is most dear, most joyous, most painful in our lives--the sublime and the messy, sometimes all in the same moment. It is difficult, maybe even impossible, to embody our values without a healthy and moral understanding of our sexuality.

As a Unitarian Universalist religious professional, I am called to be a theologian. And that theology must affirm all people, with their full selves. 
Engage!

Unitarian minister and theologian James Luther Adams explained the qualities of liberal religion--commonly referred to as the Five Smooth Stones of Liberal Religion*.

I asked my blogging community if anyone had applied the five stones to a UU theology of sexuality- a fellow blogger quipped that it might be like adding "in bed" to your fortune... let's see how it lines up. For this exercise, I'm borrowing quick snippets from an Adult Ed resource- text in bold is either a quote or a quick restating of JLA's** key concept.

Revelation is ongoing - We are always learning more about our own sexuality, about our communities, and how we can do better at building a world where we are all affirmed for our full authentic selves. And there's definitely no single Gospel truth to sexuality. PASS.

"All relations between persons ought ideally to rest on mutual, free consent and not on coercion." AMEN. This right here is ginormous and worth every blog post I could write for the rest of my life, especially when we're talking sexuality. So much of the OWL values and sessions speak directly to this point. PASS

I'm going to group these next three, as that's how they play out in my mind...

"The moral obligation to direct one's effort toward the establishment of a just and loving community" - We are called to work for justice.

"we deny the immaculate conception of virtue and affirm the necessity of social incarnation." We can't just assume that it's all going to work out--we make it happen. 

"...resources (divine and human) that are available for the achievement of meaningful change justify an attitude of ultimate optimism." There is hope, and the systems and possibilities to make that hope feasible.

The existence of OWL, the many amazing sermons and resources we have created, the important advocacy work we have done as individuals, congregations, and as an association, and the affirmations we make in our relationships with one another--these all speak to a commitment to justice and making change, with real hope and passion.    PASS

This post is only a starting point--but this was a February project--the month is nearly over.  I welcome questions and suggestions, knowing our truths are forever unfolding.





*You can find the full Adams essay, "Guiding Principles for a Free Faith" in the collection On Being Human Religiously. It's a dense but interesting collection. You can preview the essay here. (By the way--that Five Smooth Stones allusion was chosen by his editor. Please don't cast stones at me or James.)

**Yes, I still think Justice League of America when I see this acronym.

Hugging, Boundaries, and The Platinum Rule

The first thing I read this morning was this new-to-me Slate article "I Don't Need a Hug."  I posted it on Facebook with a quick comment about being on the low middle end of general hug appreciation. Not so low as the author of the article, but I found myself agreeing with several of the points.

Over the course of the day there were likes and shares and many comments. I promised that I would blog on the topic this evening. So here goes.

I'm told that many pregnant women have problems with strangers walking up to them and rubbing their bellies. When I was pregnant with twins, not one stranger touched my belly. I broadcast a pretty strong Don't Go There vibe. 

My body is mine, and I like to keep some space around it. When someone I do not much know is touching me more than incidentally, or wrapping around me, I can deal but I get a little twitchy. It wears me out. 

A good friend? Sure, we'll do a hug. Maybe two. I do not need to do the orbit of hugs when I arrive or before I leave a party.

How well do I need to know a person? I tried to come up with some sort of criteria. Someone I've met and gotten to know for X period of time? Well, there are people I know online, and I feel like I know them enough that I'll hug the first time we meet. The best I can figure--I need to know you enough that I'd offer to make you soup when you fall ill.

Have I mentioned that I work for a church? In the South? In a nurturing field? All of these things make for a more huggy (huggier?) atmosphere. 

I spend a lot of time with children. If a child wants a hug, no problem--I can do that. As long as it is their choice. 

It's important for all of us to recognize that power dynamics and consent are a part of hugging, too. Different people have different concerns and conditions they need to feel safe(r). 

The Golden Rule (treat others as you want to be treated) can be trumped by the Platinum Rule (treat others as they want to be treated.) Yes, the Platinum Rule requires communication, and I believe that is worthwhile, especially when we are getting into another's space.

The intertubes are full of articles about the blessings of hugs. How hugs are good for emotional release. But here's the thing--not everyone can just release right where they are. Sometimes a person is barely holding it together, and while yes, a cry or a scream might be in order, they might choose to wait until they are in the comfort of their own home. As much as you might want to help, who is getting their needs met in that situation? Back to the Platinum Rule.

And besides--it's flu season. Get your shots, wash your hands, and practice your favorite parade float wave.

Fringe Benefits

A school rents much of the church's religious education wing during the week. It can be a little disruptive sometimes, but in general they're good tenants and the children give good energy. They like to wave to me, to catch my attention when we're in the hall together, and they keep an eye on my door and windows to see what new art I've put up.

Best of all, though, are the periodic dance parties in the classroom next door. Pretty awesome benefit.

Vaccines, Guns, and Seat Belts

"I've heard of many tragic cases of walking, talking, normal children, who wound up with profound mental disorders after vaccines." - Rand Paul, ophthalmologist

If we replace "vaccines" with "handgun accident", how does that change the conversation and the risk?

I am amazed (but am glad) that we have managed to legislate seat belt and car seat usage so widely, given the energy behind other risky behaviors. Heaven knows, seat belts are not without adverse effects, and they definitely impact personal freedom.

Real life, however, rarely lines up neatly on a continuum, and indeed, there's rarely only one axis.

The Vulnerability of Privilege

Eula Biss is interviewed in a recent Salon article, following the publication of her book "On Immunity". Lots of powerful stuff on fear, privilege, and vulnerability. Here's an excerpt-

One of the favorite narratives [of privilege] is that we’ve just worked harder, so we deserve more. But there’s another narrative. It has to do with vulnerability, and that’s a narrative that I first started thinking about and noticing when I was writing about race. It justifies certain ways of wielding privilege, on the argument that the person who is privileged is actually not powerful but very, very vulnerable and needing protection, and that the people who are dangerous are the people who are less privileged. There’s a story line that runs something like this: vaccination may be OK for some people, but my child is uniquely vulnerable. My child is actually too vulnerable to receive this preventative medicine, and therefore I’m going to opt out of this public health initiative to spare my child this risk.

My mind is whirling with other examples of this privilege/vulnerability issue-

Going to war. These days we don't have a draft, but even when we did, there were those who could somehow escape it. 

Castle doctrine. The idea that someone behind their locked door is more vulnerable than the person on their porch. 

It is human nature to want to protect oneself and one's offspring. But we also have reason and morality--we need to get beyond irrational fear.

Not a Priority

Seen the Nationwide Insurance ad about "when you're not treated like a priority" or some such?

The "low priority" customers are portrayed by children.

I think I gasped out loud, amazed that they were so very blunt. 

As a parent and an educator, I've spent the majority of my adult life working with children. And yes, in US culture, children are often seen as a low priority. They're short, can't vote, and don't have their own credit cards.

Thank goodness they're loud and adorable, or they might be overlooked entirely.

"We Do Not Hit"

Kids are really really good at pushing each other's buttons.  Poke poke poke poke poke... until 

"MOM! HE HIT ME!"

Yes, the annoyed child lashed out and whacked his brother.

This played out more than a few times in my household. And each time, we firmly stated

"We Do Not Hit."

That hurting someone is a bad choice. (Yes, we also talked to the one doing the annoying, after making sure no actual first aid was needed.)

In Paris, satirists repeatedly poked. Poke poke poke.
Extremists took offense, stormed the magazine offices, and killed twelve people.

We do not hit.
We do not hit.
We do not hit.

AND we treat each other kindly and with respect. 

Growing Up Is Hard For All

Weatherman says there's a cold front coming.      I can't remember the last time we bought coats for my sons.

We went through the closet and oh goodness. It's been a couple of years. The growth spurt years. And as one of them said as he struggled out of too short sleeves, "These colors are awfully bright for me."

So we made our way to the store. To the men's department. Somehow they're wearing men's clothes. And given that they're within an inch of their parents' heights, it's possible that the coats we bought tonight might fit them when they are fully grown.

That's a lot to process.

So we needed ice cream. (Or, at least, I did. And it would have been rude to make my young men wait in the car.)

Coincidences As Reminders

We are all connected and have so very much in common. 

Some days this is more obvious than others.

Today I found myself in a checkout line when the guy in front of me explained that he had to get two of each toy because he has four-year old twins. The cashier laughed knowingly and shared that she has twenty-year old twins. And then I chimed in, telling him of my teens. We both assured him that parenting twins gets easier once they're in first grade, and that he would get through it.

After that I went to lunch at my favorite Indian place--and the guy at the next table was wearing a Green Bay Packers t-shirt. I greeted him with "Go Packers!" and sat down. When he started talking to the older woman across from him, I realized that they were not only from my home state of Wisconsin, but from my part of the state even. He sounded like my Uncle Matt, and the woman sounded a lot like one of my great aunts.

All this on my writing day, when I would usually stick to the hermitage.