Sipping raspberry balsamic herbal tea.
Children (not our own) shouting at their mom.
This is why we attachment parent our baby girl.
My little darling giggling at her papa as he makes faces.
The woman of the house interrupts and questions Silver on his views of Scripture.
“Why don’t you believe in the gospels?”
She doesn’t even know about our unbelief; she’s just gathered we are “doubting.”
I unplug, take my mug, and move to another room.
Summer night, crickets. Fresh air.
I still hear those children and their video games.
Silver went to go play poker earlier today. A funny activity for a Sunday. But I love that we have full control over our Sundays now. We actually have a weekend.
Farmer’s market yesterday. Ate a peach just before this. Sweeter and more vibrant than peach ring candies. “God makes food better than humans.” As long as it’s local.
Those phrases. “God is a good artist.” Funny way to enjoy a sunset.
My pastor’s wife asked me today, “Is it hard for you now when things don’t go well, because you can’t just believe that ‘God’s got this?’” Yes. Pain is more brutal, more real, less buffered without God. But, like I said, more real.
Real. I so value authenticity.
I fear my parents’ visit in a couple days. The first time I’ve seen them as an unbeliever.
But I so value authenticity, that I’ll take this freedom along with its pain any day.
Good to be able to say that.
Is this the Zoloft, the raspberry tea, or the summer evening talking? Or the fact that I napped with my baby this afternoon? Will it change in a couple hours when the moon sings louder than the sleeping sun?
Happiness is just chemicals. But I love these chemicals.
I’m heating up some more tea.