Kind is Cool…er than Bullhorns
Pulling into church last week, we heard a man’s voice carrying through the parking lot. As we looked to where the sound was coming from, we saw a dad with his wife and daughter, megaphone in one hand, doomsday poster in the other. “JUDGMENT DAY IS COMING. YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE HERE AND GO DRINK YOUR BEER AND GORGE YOURSELVES ON SPORTS, BUT GOD IS GOING TO SEPARATE THE SHEEP FROM THE GOATS. THIS CHURCH BUILDING STEALS MONEY FROM THE WIDOWS AND ORPHANS.” et cetera, et cetera. Turns out our church isn’t special – we’re just one of several megachurches that is targeted by this group. It was our week for the…uh…Judgement Day public service announcement.
Because They’re Worth Remembering
Direct quote from Beckett, the kid who cried actual tears recently because “mom PLEASE stop dancing in the car. it’s very unsafe to dance while operating a vehicle!”: “Since I’m 5 now, can I just be one of the parents?” He is – by far – the most responsible adult in our home. He is always reminding me of the rules to ensure a safe and just home. He is also always soaking up everything around him and asking ridiculously mature and insightful questions.
Celebrating Differences (and Teaching Our Kids to Do the Same)
“Dear ______, Stop _______.” – the formula for titling your next culturally relevant blog post These “open letters” are all. over. Facebook. All the time. Have you seen them? Something like: Dear White People, Stop Saying “All Lives Matter”. Dear Black People, Stop Protesting on Highways. Dear Police Officers, Stop the Excessive Force. Dear Everyone, Stop Assuming all Muslims are Terrorists. Dear Republicans/Democrats/Liberals, Stop ….. Everyone wants to be treated equally (rightly so, obviously) yet we create all these rules and stipulations for how we relate to someone who is different than us. We have an army of writers and Facebloggers writing extensive bullet point lists of things each type of human can and can’t say, can and can’t do…
I’m Positive, Honey.
I would’ve paid good money to watch a video of myself walking through the Target parking lot yesterday – one arm holding a poosploded baby under the armpits, trying not to make the mess bigger than it already was, the other arm struggling to push the tractor-trailer they market as a tri-seater shopping cart, stopping every few seconds to either pull up the preschoolers too-big shorts that kept pantsing themselves or to bend down and retrieve the toddler’s marker tops that kept falling off his fingers and rolling under vehicles. (Tops, by the way, not markers. Just the tops. Perfect “finger hats” for a 2 year old.) I also would’ve paid good money to have…
Even Still, We are Bold
After the Paris terrorist attacks in November, Bob Goff tweeted, “We’re incredibly sad, but we’re not afraid.” I had been scrolling through tweet after tweet of fear-inciting information before I came across his wisdom. Picture after picture of incredible brokenness and uncertainty. I realized that I was afraid. And I still am, truthfully. You can catch some anxiety, too, if you’d like. All you have to do is turn on the news. Belgium. School shootings. Syria. The tornado that had us hunkered down in the closet last night. Each story plants a seed of fear and doubt. Each story has us wringing our hands, wondering how we keep living life in such a…
“Well, Flitter.”
A week ago Sunday, my mom called with the news: Nanny has died. We knew it was coming; in fact, we were kinda praying it would happen quickly. A few months go, as her memory was betraying her more than ever, we got to FaceTime. And while she was lucid and engaged, she cybermet my son, her namesake, Davis Fielden. Several weeks later she met him in person, but by then she was pretty confused. So when mom called to tell me the news of her passing, I wasn’t surprised. But I was surprisingly sad. No matter how much you expect death, it still stinks. With Taylor at a conference for…
A Year of Fruit
As I reflect back over 2015, the first momentous occasion I think of, obviously, was the pregnancy and birth of our third child. But aside from, you know, adding another human to the mix and all, 2015 was also a great year for Team Brooks because it was the year we focused on the fruit of the Spirit. Each month we focused on a different “fruit”, plus a few bonus attributes at the end of the year. We planned activities surrounding it, prayed about it, and memorized a Bible verse to help us remember it. (Backstory found in this post.) Now that 2015 is coming to a close, I wanted to share how…
{uncomfortably} real life.
I had a redefining moment a few weeks ago on social media. This happens every so often and I’m thankful it does. I posted a picture on Facebook of our playroom in complete disarray with a caption about how I genuinely love seeing the toysplosion of little kids after big play. The post was met with several “same here” and heart emoji replies, in addition to one or two comments about the amount of toys pictured and the responsibility of my boys to clean them up. Fun fact: it doesn’t matter how many positive comments I receive, I will obsess over a single hint of criticism for weeks. <font-family: sarcasm> It’s one of the many perks of being a…
The Gaggiest, Greatest Love Story
August 2005: a barely-18-year-old me packed up and moved to a small west Texas town for college. I’d never been to Texas before, but I was 100% sure (based on movies and other characterizations) that every Texan boy wore boots and cowboy hats. And possibly rode a horse to class. Definitely had experience with ranching and breeding longhorns. I was excited about the prospects. Imagine my surprise when I met an irresistible, clean cut, New Balance-wearing accounting major the first day I stepped foot on campus. No Stetson, no pearl snaps, just a baseball hat and an ample t-shirt collection. I immediately knew there was something different about him. (And not just…
Fruit of the Spirit, Preschool Style
At a kid’s play place recently, Beckett saw the Grinch from Dr. Seuss painted on a wall. The entire rest of the day: “What’s that man’s name again? Why is he green? Why are his eyes yellow? Why is he so grumpy?” You know how you don’t realize something is weird until you have to voice it out loud? Yeah. “He’s green because…well, I don’t know why…but he tries to steal Christmas (?!) because his heart is 2 sizes to small. (Wait, what? He should get that checked out.)” Anyway. It’s been a thing. So today on the way to school we were working on our verse for peace this month. I was explaining…
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