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A Lesson from the Vacuum: What it Taught Me About God
His eyes flashed with anxiety. What is the whirring sound coming from the living room? They asked. My eight-month-old looked to me for reassurance. “It’s okay,” I said. “Daddy is vacuuming.” Immediately, the words sank deep into my soul. The lesson I was trying to teach my son is one I needed to hear myself. Daddy holds the vacuum. At two-and-a-half feet tall, a towering four-foot purple vacuum with the word Shark written on the front seems to threaten your very existence. It might just suck you up along with the dust bunnies on the rug. Isn’t that how we feel about life sometimes? The storm whirls around us, large…
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Friday Night Lights
In our house fall is fraught with sweltering Texas temperatures and scads of sunscreen, the smell of leather and ringing of cowbells, bright stadium lights and cheers recited to the beat of the band. We’re a football family, and fall is game time. Before marrying my husband, a high school football coach, I had no clue about Texas football. If you’re not from Texas, the game, fans, band, and tailgates can seem cultish. It’s an obsession around these parts—and that’s what makes it so wonderful. There’s something that fosters family when you spend Friday nights with the same cheering section over and over. It doesn’t matter if the game is…
