Posts in The Head & The Heart
The single largest demographic risk factor for early death... & parenting

“Being male is now the single largest demographic risk factor for early mortality in developed countries. “ - Dr. DJ Kruger, ‘Sexual selection and the male:female mortality ratio.” (2014)

Like all of you moms out there with special need kiddos, I spend a lot of time thinking, researching strategies, and praying over my boys. I worry about their ability to launch, fear their failure as adults, and continually berate myself over my poor parenting choices and anger flashes. We’ve tried to create an ongoing life skills conversation with our boys every day at dinner as a means by which to speak to their hearts and hear their thoughts, ambitions, and concerns. Last night we talked about popularity and why some kids attract friends and others don’t. Both of my older boys lamented that they wished they were popular because then, in the words of Jude, “everyone likes you.”

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Love God with your muchness 🌿

 "Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one, and as for you, you shall Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength [mo’ed]."🌿

“‘Me'od.’ Interestingly, this is the only place in the Bible "Me'od" is translated as strength. Everywhere else, it means "very" or "much." It's an adverb that intensifies the meanings of other words. While it may sound funny, to love God with all your strength "Me'od" is to love him with all your "Muchness." It means to love God with everything you have, devoting every possibility, opportunity, and capacity to honor God and to love your neighbor as yourself.” - The Bible Project

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What’s it like parenting an autistic son?

What’s it like parenting an autistic son?

It’s throwing spaghetti at the wall and see what’s sticks; experimenting with meds, dosages, time of day and hoping your living guinea pig won’t be adversely affected; it’s Friday nights leaving the boys unattended for a quick, 10 minute shower only to discover in that time they decided to “finger paint” the entire upstairs, dirty laundry, walls, furniture, and floors...

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Three things I’ve lost

1) A vintage brass Chinese lantern necklace from my Aunt living in Japan.
This necklace was one of my favorite pieces of jewelry, and I wore it from age 9 through 21 (when I lost it—maybe at a hotel—at my dear friend @alanafrihana’s awesome wedding). I do still have a photo of me wearing it, though, huddled close to three of my favorite people in the world: @jennakthom @dollydelong @alanafrihana ). We were “studying” at the Midnight oil and you can instantly tell how much I adore these ladies by the way my face is radiant with joy. It’s been a decade since I saw them last (at my wedding, actually) but I still love them and pray God gives them happy, full, joyous lives. All of us are mommas now, and, though we may not be roommates or study buddies any longer, we share that beautiful mutual thread of shepherding our little ones in obedience and love of God. Every time I think of that necklace I lost, I think of this photo and these friends, and God’s meta-narrative of grace and redemption.

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Not that there are a lot of clean records in the Justice Center. Most of the defendants, many of the victims, too, have had some prior entanglement with the law. And even if it's small stuff—marijuana possession or trespassing—you get the stink on you, or what I've come to think of as the stink. You get a whiff of bad citizenry about you. An odor that causes the presumption of innocence to shrivel.

[ . . .]

Punishment is relative. What it takes to teach you a lesson depends on what you're used to. But there was a more disturbing implication as well. One that prows this courthouse and throughout our criminal justice system. That we are not like them. The ones we arrest and punish, the ones with the stink, they're slightly different species, with senses dulled and toughened. They don't feel pain or sorrow or joy or freedom or the loss of freedom the same way you or I would.

— Serial, S. 3, E. 1: A bar fight walks into a justice center

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We're all in the together

When I'm feeling optimistic I appreciate that an elevator car in a government building is one of the few places left in our country where different kinds of people are forced into proximity. I like to think that we can all stand so close to one another, with our sensible heels, and Timberland boots, and American flag lapel pins, and fake eyelashes, and Axe cologne, and orthopedic inserts, and teardrop tattoos, and to-go coffees. And when the elevator doors open up, spilling us out onto our floor, the fact that no one is bloodied or even in tears, it's a small, pleasing reminder that we're all in this together.

Serial, S. 3, E. 1: A bar fight walks into a justice center

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