I don’t like my neighbors. In fact, we’re thinking of moving because they’re terrible people. Will you pray for me? A young mother approached me with these words after I taught a breakout session on “Reinventing the Backyard Bible Club.” I hugged her and responded, “Yes, I will pray for you, but I want
Recently I was invited to a ladies breakfast. The breakfast was held at a golf club in the middle of an upper class neighborhood. Due to life circumstances, I drove my husband’s ladder truck. As I slunk in the back entrance, I felt much like the character, Mrs. Bucket from the PBS show, Keeping
I’m a talker. If there’s another person in the room, chances are I’m the one talking. I have a good friend who is a listener. We do well together. However, my listening friend and I both struggle when it comes to engaging with our neighbors. My problem is talking too much, hers is not
Eating is possibly one of the greatest American pastimes. We have cooking shows, cooking blogs, and cooking websites. Our towns are filled with restaurants, coffee shops, and ice cream parlors. There are health food stores, international food stores, and bulk food stores. If you want to eat, you can order in, eat out or
“The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.” – Matthew 13:45-46 Six weeks ago, I found myself sitting in church feverishly taking notes as my pastor, Jeff Griffin, began preaching the first
My childhood play often led to my mother’s cherry wood dining table. With a lace tablecloth on one end and a patchwork quilt on the other, the world beneath became a castle, a cave, a hobbit hole, a napping house. When the dining room table could no longer hold my dreams, I sought out
I have a confession. I am mediocre. I’m not famous or fabulous or fearless. My name will not be remembered by many or my work held up as an example of excellence to the next generation. I’m just me. Those who know me best would tell you I’m kind, creative, loving, and sometimes funny.
When our first two sons were seven and two, friends of ours declined a movie invitation saying they had a commitment with their kids that night. We were intrigued and asked what they were up to. They shared that Friday nights were family night and that they simply played games and invented stuff together.