Archive for August 2013

Andrew: Hey, Mom … Mom … MOM, can we have a bunny?   Me: (without even looking up) No. Andrew: Why not?  Me: We just can’t. Andrew: You’re so mean. I’m sick of it.   Whoa … halt. Immediately, I want to look up from my book and lecture him on respect. Instead, I breathe.…

There was an artist at my church—painting as the band played music. I was captivated by her movements, watching her brush strokes define the abstract. Suddenly, a little boy of two or three emerged from the audience and made a beeline for the stage. He was holding a paintbrush. The artist, though startled, leaned down,…