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Nov 26

“some of these kids… no one’s ever told them they could be good at anything.”

of everything David Perry and i discussed the day he invited me to be a part of ICiT, this one sentence has stuck with me.

maybe because that is not the world i grew up in. it’s not the America i grew up in. it’s not the reality i grew up in. yet it’s the narrow reality for so many people (let alone children) in our world.

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Feb 23

 

i love watching Mathilda sleep. she does it with as much intensity as she does everything else. looking at her, it’s hard to remember she’s only 18 months old, but her behavior is very much that of a puppy. having not seen her or Larry for almost three weeks, they were ecstatic to see me. Mathilda wanted to get so close to me that jumping up to be at eye-level with me (which she is almost capable of doing) isn’t enough… she was trying to bite me and swallow my face… i guess if you’re a puppy, everything you value goes in your mouth at some point.

when i take her for a walk, she jerks and pulls, she chases after birds and squirrels, cowers and runs away from traffic, and in general wears me out. when she eats, don’t get in the way, or you’ll draw back a nub. she would never growl or bite anyone intentionally, but every time she eats, it’s like her last meal. everything she does — walking, playing, eating — is done with such intensity. even sleeping.

when she sleeps, it’s like she’s trying as hard as she can to get in as much sleep as possible. the slightest noise, and that head pops up off the ground waiting for something exciting. or tasty. when she dreams, she starts breathing heavily, then her oversized paws start moving, and every now and then she’ll give a deep, quiet, “rrruf…”

i always wonder what she’s dreaming about. do dogs dream like we do? do they see pictures and hear sounds? do they dream of people they know and places they’ve been? do they dream of giant bones or crippled cats or ponds full of fish and ducks and mud?

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Feb 21


photo by Ian W. Scott.

Becoming the Sycamore Tree

by David Skidmore, my brother.

as featured in Youth Specialties.

“At my church, we have a private preschool and kindergarten. In the nearby church courtyard is a playground. And on that playground is an off-limits tree. A big tree. A tempting tree. I mean, this is a Mount-Everest-of-a-tree to little, exploring eyes. It’s as though God chose a playground and placed a tree in the middle and declared, “On every other structure thou mayest climb, but on this tree thou mayest not climb, for on the day when thou dost, thou shalt surely… be placed in time-out… or something.”

Eventually a red line was painted above the second limb from the ground. The children were free to climb to that line, but everything above was forbidden territory. And ‘Mrs. Wanda’ (as the kids call her) guards that tree with a watchful eye that would impress an angel wielding a flaming sword.

But after hours — figuring Mrs. Wanda and her whistle have departed for wherever kindergarten teachers go until 8 a.m. the next day — some kids do climb above the red line. There’s something about that tree that beckons, ‘Come… and climb!’ to every adventurer.

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Nov 26

enjoyed Thanksgiving with the family in murfreesboro this year. wasn’t anything that wasn’t delicious. now ready to go to the farm to make plans for Dave’s visit with parabolos.

thank You, God, for all things— none of which we deserve, all of which are from Your Mercy and Grace.


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