Last month I interviewed Water Protector Sierra Asamoa-Tutu and Episcopal priest John Floberg, both of whom served at Standing Rock. In their own words, here’s what they shared about where things stand with Standing Rock.
What do you need to adopt about your home and about yourself as a parent or spouse to have the kind of home you want?
In the middle of a Saturday morning, with cartoon noise in the background, two dogs snoring after a brisk walk around the neighborhood, brothers rushing out the garage door to ride bikes and meet up with friends, our littlest will bust out in song.
Saint Simon and Saint Jude are an odd couple; they are a strange pair of saints to observe together. They are not brothers, as some linked saints are. They are not martyrs who died on the same day. They are not saints whose names are linked together again and again in scripture. Instead, it seems that the only reason that they are observed together is that they are the two disciples about whom we know the least.
Three springs ago the Martin family moved in across the street. Later that summer Isra Hatel, who lives three doors down, called me. She told a story that wasn’t actually new, though I tried to listen as if it had been.
There’s going to be a brother in our house. The two big sisters, upon learning we are expecting a boy, spent nearly five minutes in anguish before returning to delightful anticipation of Baby.
As members of a community devoted to growing Christians, I hope we don’t need to be reminded about turning our hearts towards our children whether they are biological, adopted, or spiritual. But actually, there are times when I do need to repent, to turn my heart away from what is distracting me, and to turn it towards my children.
Letting go of your children is tough. Miriam shares what happened when she let her daughter make her own way.
They sit in their carseats, next to one another holding hands. The palest caucasion skin of anyone in the family, enfolding the brown hand of his Hispanic little brother. “Are they both yours?” The woman meeting us for the first time asks. “Yes,” I reply, but she wants more. “How did you get that black haired one?” “Same way I got the blond haired one.”
It happens often when we are in church: at the time of the children’s sermon, my daughter is nowhere to be found.