You are forgiven.
As a Generation X woman, working mother, clergy spouse, and people pleaser, I’ve often felt the “damned if we do, damned if we don’t” pull inside myself.
As a Generation X woman, working mother, clergy spouse, and people pleaser, I’ve often felt the “damned if we do, damned if we don’t” pull inside myself.
Every email to my children’s teachers the first three weeks of quarantine began with an apology.
You are in a season of extreme parenting. I know it’s exhausting.I see you.
In the Before Times I had an awkward relationship with my at-home Book of Common Prayer.
As a priest I probably shouldn’t admit to this, but I know next to nothing about James and Philip, the two saints whom we honor today. To be fair, none of us can claim to know much about them either.
Our family likes to celebrate and decorate for just about every holiday.
Just after 7:30 this morning my younger son and I trekked out to the driveway in our slippers and pajamas, a box of sidewalk paint, a roll of masking paint, and my cup of coffee our only companions.
We started this whole quarantine, isolation, homeschool, work from home thing almost a month ago in the middle of Lent. The me who loves rhythms of liturgical seasons could spiritually get behind the idea that we would spend Lent sacrificing for others.
Gilded chapels and stained glass light have been the setting of my past reflections on the feast day of Saint Mark the Evangelist. But this year, there is COVID-19. It seems that nothing is left untouched by the pandemic.
A formerly homeschooled kid myself, I never felt the desire to homeschool my own children.