When we brought our son home from India at age 3, he was all about the physical world. He wanted to touch everything, his hands darting out every which way to grab objects he saw not just in front of him but in his peripheral vision too. He also wanted to eat everything — even my ultimate challenge: a beet-swiss chard salad sprinkled with feta and topped with balsamic dressing. He devoured … Continue reading The forgotten art of rough-housing
I did something new last Sunday: I shouted in church. No, I wasn’t slain in the spirit or anything like that—we’re Washington State Presbyterians (and grew up as Minnesota Lutherans). Sure, now and then someone will punctuate a point in the sermon with an “Amen!,” and a couple of women sometimes sing with their hands lifted high, but our senior pastor likes to joke that our … Continue reading Um! Yah! Yah!