I'll get straight to it. My theology is not Evangelical. In coming to a faith of my own I found that I feel most at home in Mainline Protestantism, or churches with more ecumenical practices. I feel at home when exploring what Christ's restorative love and power looks like not just within the context of a personal relationship or a physical building, but in the broader scope of the Church in the world, and how we care for, serve, and love the world around us.

* I decided to post this one today because it's eerily similar to my last night. Some things never change. :)

October, 2013. 

I never slept last night.

Oh, I had every intention of sleeping. There's no way a sane woman forsakes sleep when she is the mother of two boys just this side of full-blown bonkers, or when her husband will be leaving town for the weekend, abandoning her to the children, the laundry, the dishes; the post-apocalyptic-looking house.

August, 2013

I ALREADY MISS THEM.

They are only a few miles down the road, but the house is too quiet to enjoy, and I miss them. Elias and Ellery will be at Granna & Grandpa's this week, which means they will prove, once again, that they love grandparents more than us, and Jonathan & I will enjoy each other while missing them. But this is good. It's good to miss something, to long for something. I guess that's where the hopeful curse comes into play, the one we share with all creation.

This morning I write just for the practice.

I am hunched over a tray table in a window seat, looking down over the expanse of a flat Texas. There's no burning thought to flesh out with ink, no idea lobbed onto my heart that's bursting to get out. My only thoughts, really, are for my boys, all three of them. I've been away for three and a half days and that's too long this time.