Jackson Five Friday: Rooted

Hey Friends,

I’ve spent my morning in a coffee shop on Main Street in Chattanooga. It’s more bustling and delicious than Starbucks. There are fresh flowers in a tin pot on my table. The exposed brick walls, dim lighting and soft music create an inviting vibe. Plus, I ordered yummy grit cakes with kale and poached eggs for breakfast. All very lovely, but what’s really filling my cup is a few minutes ALONE to read and think and write a few words. Summer is my favorite season, but by its end I’m ready for this–quiet, contemplative mornings in coffee shops.

Sam is currently at orientation for middle school, Nate turned fifteen last week, and Dub is looking at colleges. Nate is my most talkative child and it feels like just a few minutes ago that I’d pick him up from preschool. He’d be so anxious to tell me all about what he’d learned, sharing fun details about his classmates and his beloved Miss Nancy. I’d kneel so we’d be eye to eye and he’d know he had my full attention. He was such a darling and entertaining child. Now I need to look up, way up, to meet his gaze and it’s legal for him to start driving! What on earth?

But don’t you think the tender and attentive love of a mother for a child is beautiful thing? Have you considered that God’s love is even better? Our Heavenly Father metaphorically kneels to meet us eye-to-eye. He willingly and humbly engages just at our level. His tenderness is perhaps evident most in the incarnation itself. He gave up heaven to come to earth, to show us how to live. Then in His death He paid for all our sins. God’s love is perfect. He never fails.

As I relish this quiet morning, my prayer is that my boys will know that they are loved by God in a tender and attentive way. That this truth will be the anchor of their lives.

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭2:6-7‬ ‭

Being rooted in Christ paints a picture of being firmly attached, being fed and nourished in an organic way. It’s an ideal in sharp contrast to the way of the world. Henri Nouwen writes about being haunted by the question of whether if anyone truly knew him they’d still love him. He wrote, “That agonizing question, rooted in my inner shadow, kept persecuting me and made me run away from the very place where that quiet voice calling me the Beloved could be heard.”

Where are you rooted? And can you hear the quiet voice calling you Beloved?

With Love,


Jackson Five Friday: Setting a Destination

Hey Friends,

First of all, I hope you’ve had a wonderful summer.  I’ve had some fun adventures, from Dallas, Texas to Trenton, New Jersey and many places in between.  I’ve been to many a swim meet, breathed in some salty air and spent a ton of time just hanging out with my family.  We started doing college visits and I also spent six days laying face down after having surgery to re-attach my retina.  I never stay home for six solid days, and I never lay on my stomach.  But by God’s grace, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Being socially unplugged since Mother’s Day has helped me be wholly present, but I always miss blogging!  I often compose posts in my head because I love telling stories.  We are made for stories.  Folding our story into God’s gives context and meaning to everything.  The more we let the story — the truth — of Jesus inform and direct and our lives, the more we become who He created us to be.

Of course if you’ve been reading this blog for any time at all — it’s a decade old this month — you know that I have an unbelievable propensity for embarrassing myself.  This summer was no different.

Dub and I did part of our college loop by train in and out of DC.  Any time I ride the train I always marvel how easy it is.  You can arrive to the station just minutes before the train pulls out and you still have time to grab coffee.  Coffee took on even greater importance that morning since we were hopping on the 4:30a train.  We returned the same day, rolling back in at around 7:30p.  Our plan was to have dinner with my niece, Caitlin, her husband and baby, who live near Capitol Hill.  She ordered take-out Thai and Dub and I picked it up.  From the restaurant we ordered an Uber.   I didn’t bother to dig for reading glasses but had Dub confirm that I had entered the address correctly.  For any non-Washingtonians, the District is divided into quadrants, Southwest, Southeast, Northeast, and Northwest.  The address specifies which quadrant.  For example, 123 Jackson Ave SE would be in an entirely different area than 123 Jackson Ave NW. I insisted that Dub confirm I’d entered the NE, designation.

When we climbed into the Uber, our driver indicated that he was deaf.  I was in the front seat and Dub in the back.  It took about three blocks for me to realize that we were heading in the wrong direction.  Oh dear.  It would’ve been a good time to know sign language.  Through mostly pointing, we indicated to the driver that this was not right.  He pulled over and whipped out a sign.  He was prepared for me.  The sign said “You must correct the address on the app.”

“Make sure it says NE!” I said as I handed Dub my phone.  A few seconds later we were off again, and inching closer to where we needed to be.  But then after a few minutes, we again abruptly turned Northwest.  “What on earth,” I thought.  Then I realized we were near a park I recognized.  I motioned to our dear, patient driver that we’d just get out there.  I was almost 100% certain that I knew the sign for thank you, but in my sleep deprived, exhausted state-of-mind I feared that the wave from the chin could also be some kind vulgarity.  Stupidly, I just repeatedly said “thank you” and hopped out.

We stumbled through the park, made a few more turns and praised God when we eyed Caitlin’s place.

Over dinner, I recounted our Uber adventure.  The look on Caitlin’s face was priceless.  She was utterly dumbfounded.

“It’s SE, not NE!”  she said.

With more sleep I’m confident I’d know that the United States Capitol is not North.  It’s kind of unreal that I could make such a mistake.  Repeatedly.  How we got anywhere near where we needed to be is miraculous.  God’s grace alone.

What kind of a moron gives a deaf Uber driver an address that does not even exist?

But it got me thinking about the importance of setting destinations.  What is yours?  Where are you headed in life?

While I am game for adventure, and love seeing new places, the ultimate aim of my life is the Kingdom of God.  Jesus speaks so clearly on this:  Seek first His Kingdom and everything else falls into place.  My fumbling Uber trip testifies that you may even arrive exactly where you need to be when you insist on a nonexistent destination.  That’s how much God loves you.

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[e]?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  (Matthew 6)

With Love,