Faith

I’ve been the young mom who trades multitasking in the office for barely fitting in a shower and clearing the dishwater all before the end of my husband’s work day. The mom trying all The Happiest Baby on the Block tips, like the baby-straddles-your-forearm-while-you-gently-jiggle-her-head trick to make her sleepy. My arm would fall asleep before my baby did, and when I’d lay her in her crib, slowly inch my arm free, and tiptoe out of the room, it would be mere minutes before she’d start to cry. No joke, my firstborn never napped. Also true is that I lost a piece of me in those years of just making it through the day. Being a new mom was all-consuming, so I stopped

We remodeled bathrooms last winter, taking out an upstairs hall and adding its space to one bathroom, gutting a second, and updating a third. It was a project Alejandro promised to finish by late February, just in time for a women’s retreat scheduled to take place there. But February came and went, and the retreat got put on the back burner, while installing vanities, lights, and faucets became front and center. I let the pastors know we’d have to postpone the retreat until summer. But I got to thinking: The winter retreat topic was more suited to gathering around a fireplace than around our porch, so I sent an email to the powers-that-be about another idea more suitable for summer. When I

Have you ever noticed how many analogies there are in the Bible about plants or farming? Quite a few, but being the black thumb that I am (think seven dead basil plants since the beginning of the year), I really appreciate the clothing metaphor in Colossians 3. It literally starts in verse 12 with “clothe yourself.” Oh yeah, this is something I can get behind, Paul. Please continue. Right after “clothe yourself,” he gives you the most fascinating list of things to “put on.” While looking at this list, I thought of how transformed our relationships would become if we took these words to heart and apply them to our faith: “Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves,

My faith used to feel so much bigger. These days, it can feel like an afterthought. A prayer shot off in traffic or as I am already falling asleep. I struggle through any kind of devotional book. I make it to church most weekends but pray with my eyes open and occasionally with my heart closed. I miss the small narrow faith that felt so consuming of my youth. I miss the simple Sunday school lessons, youth group concerts and innocent prayers. In college, faith filled living room couches and strummed guitars. I hung out in coffee shops and college ministries. I made all the usual college mistakes but I still managed to squeeze in a quiet time or go to a

I grew up in a church that led their spiritual conversation by giving you rules—what you can’t do as a Christian. There was a lot for this teen girl in northern Indiana. We weren’t supposed to dance, play cards, wear miniskirts, smoke, drink, or cuss. And soon to make the list—drugs, because they were relatively new to the American culture. It was a season of darkness, both in the church and the culture that surrounded it. So, every weekend, I parked the rules at the door as I left my home to be with my friends. My mother’s Bible verse of choice for me as I walked out the door, “Be sure your sins will find you out.” When putting my key

Last summer, my birthday wish was rain. Sixty-seven days had passed without so much as a raindrop, and 47 of those days reached temperatures 100 degrees and up. Each morning, we opened our weather apps and hoped the meteorologists had made a mistake and that maybe, just maybe, showers would fall and refresh the land. But the morning of my birthday showed nothing different. Just clear skies and temps nearing 100, yet again. I stared out my bedroom window, lamenting the shriveled-up tomato plants, squash, and the remaining vegetables I’d intentionally planted into moist soil months prior. My backyard displayed all the visible signs of thirst: My hedges sagged toward the heat-cracked flower beds, and even the cacti, known for their resilience