Posted by Tagged with church, evolving faith, Faith Posted in Uncategorized

To church or not to church?

It’s Sunday. Growing up that meant going to church. We always went to church. The only reason we didn’t go is if we were sick or out of town. Even in a snowstorm, church was rarely cancelled. Those who were able found a way to get there. It was a family affair. Everyone went. No questions asked.

This fierce loyalty to a Sunday gathering of believers stuck with me through college and into adulthood. I simply COULD NOT skip church. Anytime I did, I heard a voice in my ear saying “don’t forsake the gathering of believers as some are in the habit of doing.” This was a Bible verse frequently quoted as a reason not to skip church.

I never asked myself if I liked going to church. It was just something I did. As I moved from place to place in my young adult life, I found myself finding a similar church in whatever new place I went. These churches all had in common an emphasis on loyalty and being “under authority”. Everyone loved you until you left. If you moved to another similar church, “fine”, but if you moved to a more “progressive or liberal church” or became Catholic or ELCA Lutheran (God forbid!) that was not OK. I could anticipate the shaking of the head and deep sigh from the church leaders as they watched people leave for other churches.

In my 30’s, I began to question my faith traditions for the first time. I became tired and disillusioned with church as I had always known it. A lot of it no longer seemed relevant. My husband and I decided to stop going to church on Sundays for awhile. It was such a strange feeling. We would go to parks and see families playing together and enjoying the weather and time in nature on a Sunday morning. They seemed so relaxed and happy. They weren’t thinking about who was in church and who wasn’t. After being in active ministry and highly involved in the ins and outs of a Sunday service for my entire life, this shift was just plain weird.

I started seeing the world through a non-church lens. I started meeting people on Sunday mornings that I never had time to meet when I was in church. I started Resting on Sundays. Those who have been in a ministry position know that Sundays are never restful. I started seeing the church as more than just a building where people gathered on Sundays at 10am. This break from church was an important time for me. A needed a change of pace to shake some unhelpful religious ideas off of me.

After awhile, I started to miss church services. I missed the singing, being able to ask someone for prayer, the pot luck dinners, the feeling of being a part of a community that cares for each other. I even missed the quirky and weird parts of church. Every church I’ve ever been to is just weird. Even the ones that are trying to not be. I went back again with new eyes. I saw all the flaws and I saw the trappings of trying to organize something that Jesus intended to be free flowing and organic. I saw the downsides to hierarchy and the pride in thinking we have it figured out or know the “right way”. I accepted the fact that church will never be what I want it to be. I accepted the fact that God is much bigger than one church or one type of church but still chooses to use the people in them.

How each believer chooses to “be the church” will look differently. I no longer judge someone who chooses to not “go to church” on Sunday. My husband doesn’t go to church and neither do my teenagers most of the time. I’m sad about that sometimes, but I never want them to feel that church attendance is required to gain my love and acceptance. I want my husband and kids’ faith to be their own. I now realize that there are lots of different ways that people choose to worship and I am not meant to be the judge of which way is best.

Today I woke up and didn’t feel like going to church. That old feeling of guilt came back as strong as ever and I lay in bed for a half hour wrestling with myself. Then, I decided to stay home. It was good and it was what was needed for today.

How about you? Do you have a complicated history with church? Do Sundays look the same for you now as they did as a child or young adult? I’d love to hear about it.



Posted by Tagged with autism, parenting, special needs kids Posted in Uncategorized

My kid isn’t like the others


When I see parents posting first day of school pictures of their kids with smiling faces heading off to school, I can’t help but think of the kids like mine, who found the school environment incredibly challenging.

My oldest has overcome a multitude of obstacles and is facing college head on this year, but it has not been easy. School has always been exhausting for Ellie, as someone on the autism spectrum. Bright fluorescent lights, noise, timed tests, confusing social interactions with peers, and the never ending feeling of being over stimulated. As parents, we wish our kids felt more at home in the world – and in the schools that are designed to fit some kids, but not all kids.

For those with ADHD, autism, sensory processing issues, anxiety, and other challenges, school can be extremely difficult. I remember looking around at parents of the “normal” kids in those smiling back to school pictures and thinking “they have no idea how easy they have it”. Nobody told us in the childbirth and early childhood classes how hard this would be. The formulas in the parenting books just don’t work for us. We’ve tried, believe me.

If you are a parent of an atypical child, I’m thinking of you as I see the back to school pics being posted. You want your kid to fit in, or at the very least, have someone to sit with at lunch. You want to shield them from embarrassment and pain. You want them to not just survive, but thrive. You want them to be themselves and be embraced for who they are.

Many teens like mine have found ways to cope in this world through therapy, medicine, and finding community with others who are like them.

If you are a young parent, worried about your child being different and not knowing where to turn, I know that feeling. I’ve been there. I remember having another parent tell me that their 1st grader could not be friends with my first grader because my child “couldn’t control themselves”. That hurt. I have also been in social situations where my child was having a meltdown and a roomful of people were staring at me as I helplessly stood there, not knowing what to do.

Parenting these amazing, unique kids is challenging, confusing, and overwhelming at times. I know you are doing your best and you are your child’s biggest cheerleader. I applaud you and encourage you to take a break and look after yourself. It’s gonna be ok. School is hard for kids like ours. Sometimes we get tired and pull them out, because it’s easier than seeing them suffer in an environment where their needs are not understood. Other times, we keep them in school and advocate for them, finding accommodations that help them to do their best. No kid is alike and there is no ready made solution. It is just plain hard, and I see that now more than ever.

My hope in writing this is for at least one parent of an atypical child to know they are not alone. If you have a friend who you know is struggling to understand their child and the challenges of school, reach out to them and listen. An understanding friend can make a world of difference for a parent who feels alone.

This photo of Ellie brings me joy. It communicates the life and joy that Atypical kids bring into the world. They are intense, sensitive, persistent, and we love them for it.

Posted by Tagged with Artists, burn out, creativity, rest, writers block Posted in Uncategorized

Creative Drought

When I find myself not writing or reading, I know something is lacking. Like the earth needs water, one of my refreshing wells is words. Words bring meaning to emotions and experiences. However, when words are not enough, simply BEING in a place of beauty and taking it in feels like gulping cold, clean water on a hot day.

These dry times are bound to come. How can I bloom in the desert?

As I wait for some grand inspiration, some mountain top moment, some new work to present itself, I’m reminded that BEING in the PRESENT moment is what life is all about. Life is about seeing every landscape as beautiful and meaningful. The deserts, the mountains, the oceans, the forests, and the plains. Flowers do still bloom in the desert.

Here are some things I am doing to keep my creativity alive and blooming.

Choosing to do the small things.
Take photos of things that draw me in
Watering some flowers and plants and watching them grow Learning something new – ukelele for me Resting in a hammock near water.
Taking my kids to a sculpture park and bead store.

Speak kindly to yourself Avoid “should haves” and telling myself I am “lazy”. Remind myself of how far I’ve come.

Dream on Paper What would I do if there was nothing stopping me? Where would I like to be in 10 years? Write it down.

Do something that scares you For me this means not being afraid to approach new people and speak up in public. It means going down the water slide when I’d rather take a nap on my towel. It means trusting my instincts and pushing ahead instead of doubting myself. It means having hard conversations instead of smiling and saying “I’m fine” when it’s not fine.

Share one of your ideas with someone else Don’t keep all your dreams inside. Speak at least one dream out loud. If the sharing of your idea isn’t received, try again with someone else. Don’t give up so quickly. One “no” is not a closed door forever. Maybe try a window or look for another way through. Don’t give up.


One of my dreams is to find a way to make income without being in one place, so I can spend a year traveling with my family. Another dream is to write a book.

What are you dreaming of? How are you watering your creativity?


Posted by Tagged with family, relationships Posted in Uncategorized

Cheers to the Helpers

It’s no surprise that I see myself as a helper. My desire to help comes largely from observing my parents who are both helpers.

My Dad was always picking up around the house when I was young. There were 7 kids, so no shortage of messes to pick up. We didn’t have a dish washer, so dishes were all done by hand. Dad would wash and us kids would take turns rinsing and drying. It was always a race to keep up with Dad’s washing. He was FAST! My dad was a teacher and principal, but before school he delivered newspapers to multiple routes. I think the paper routes started as my little brothers’ routes, but the boys grew tired of them and my dad took them over. I’m not quite sure how that worked, but the paper routes continued even after all the kids were grown. Dad also gave people rides to doctor appointments in Sioux Falls, SD and drove people to the Twin Cities occasionally when they didn’t have a car. He was quick to volunteer at church if someone had a need. He was known for leading backyard Bible clubs at the park and writing plays with his students for their dinner theater each year.
My mom always had a way with the elderly. I remember her visiting the nursing home most weekends when I was a child and then later in life it became her job as she did home health care. To this day, she can be found helping elderly ladies in her hometown of Marshall, MN with daily hygiene, grocery shopping, appointments, and companionship. She also cared for her mother, who moved in with my parents during her final years. When I had surgery a couple weeks ago, my mom came a filled our freezer with meals.

The helpers in my life don’t stop there. I also married into a family of helpers. Mark’s parents have been caregivers for several older family members and friends over the years. They took people into their home to live with them, treating them with great care. Their whole world is their kids and grandkids and anytime any of us need a ride or a favor, they are quick to jump in the car and meet the need, even if it means driving an hour or more. Mark’s mom
is always bringing us care packages of soups, puzzles, photo albums, and the latest and greatest cleaning supplies.
Being surrounded by so many helpers makes it feel natural for me to want to help. This has its ups and downsides. The benefits of helping are obvious and quickly applauded; the downsides are harder to see at first.

Here are a few challenges/downsides that helpers wrestle with.


#1. A tendency to want to avoid conflict.
We seek to meet every need before anyone feels uncomfortable. We want a peaceful environment where everyone gets along. Rocking the boat is to be avoided at all costs.

#2. A “need to be needed” is often common in helpers. When our helping is not acknowledged or reciprocated, we can become bitter and resentful. “Look at all I’ve done for you and you don’t even seem to care” is a common thought. Sometimes what we don’t realize is the person we have done so much for may have not even been asking for help in the first place. Helpers need to be aware of their own motivation. Are we giving in order to get something in return? Are we keeping score in our heads of who is returning our favors and who is not?

#3. Helpers have a tendency toward burn-out. We need to love ourselves as much as we love others. We need to take days and weeks off from helping. We must set boundaries for ourselves and get comfortable saying “no” or “that doesn’t work for me today”

As I have been recovering from surgery, it has become crystal clear how much helping I really do on a daily basis. This forced rest is helping me appreciate the helpers who have brought me meals, visited, and helped give the kids rides and done housework. Cheers to the helpers. You are important and loved.

Posted by Tagged with evolving faith, parenting, parenting teens Posted in Uncategorized

When one sentence changes everything

How can one sentence change the course of a life? How can one sentence change how you see a person?
How can one sentence change how you see the world?

The time I’ve been thinking about when a sentence changed everything was when my oldest child was 14. We were driving in the car and had just arrived home from a church event. There was a long silence, and then Ellie said, “Mom, I need to tell you something.” I took a deep breath because it seemed like it was something big, but I couldn’t imagine what? Then Ellie said in a barely audible voice,

“I don’t believe in God. I’m not a Christian.”

This was after a time of worship where Ellie was singing, with eyes closed and arms raised. I said “Well, why were you worshipping like you were tonight?” To that, Ellie replied, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I was pretending.”
Ellie has always known that my faith is very important and I assumed that all my kids would follow me down the same road of beliefs. Much later, Ellie told me they had felt this way for 3 years and felt pained to go to church and “fake it” and that’s why they decided to sign up to work in the nursery so they wouldn’t have to listen to the sermons.
I was in complete shock.
What now?

In the days that followed, a neighbor told me about the Liturgists podcast. The early episodes feature a worship leader and a Sunday school teacher who talk about their complete loss of faith, while continuing to lead worship and teach on Sunday mornings, unbeknownst to their family and church members.

I started to look around in my church and wonder if there were others who were “faking it”. How many people in the room had doubts that this whole Christian/God thing was real? How many people were there to please their friends and loved ones or out of habit, but in their heart of hearts, didn’t buy it.

I started reading books by authors who had went through faith deconstruction and disillusionment. I started to have my own doubts. Instead of seeing the good in the church, I started seeing everything that was wrong. I didn’t feel like reading the Bible anymore and prayer felt empty. This went on for several years. I read a book called The Critical Journey about the stages of faith and realized I was going through something called “the wall”. There was no way around it. I was just going to be there for awhile. I started meeting with a mature spiritual friend who listened and helped me walk through where I was at. We have met monthly for the last 4 years. I’ve begun to see that asking questions is an important part of a maturing faith. It is normal and should be embraced instead of feared. Now, when someone tells me they have been hurt by the church or don’t understand the faith of their child or teen years anymore, I don’t feel surprised or worried like I once would have. I am actually drawn to people with doubts because they tend to be more authentic and tell you the whole truth.

Am I back to “loving church” again? Yes, but in a very different way. I assume the best from people, while all the while, expecting that they will disappoint me. I don’t look to Sunday mornings as the centerpiece of my life, but a small part of the whole. I do not see church as a building and I don’t see it as a small group of people. It is wider than that and extends beyond the small minded barriers we construct in our tiny human brains. I have more questions than answers and nothing seems impossible to consider. I do love Jesus and He is my model for loving others. I find myself praying again and looking forward to doing life with God’s people in whatever setting that may be. Around a table, at the piano, on a hike, or in a time of prayer or conversation. I see God’s people as those who have accepted His gifts and those who have not. God created all and includes all at the table. No exceptions.

The sentence spoken by my firstborn 5 years ago has taken me on quite a trip and I’m better for it. Thanks Ellie, for your honesty. Love you tons!




Posted by Tagged with Racism, social justice Posted in Uncategorized

Anniversary of George Floyd’s Murder

As I pause today to remember George Floyd and his family, I also pause to consider how his murder has changed me.

I didn’t grieve for Philando Castillo or the other innocent victims who were killed before him.

I didn’t grieve the treatment of slaves, and the killing of black bodies throughout history.

I didn’t know that thirty-eight Dakota men were hung from a gallows in Mankato, MN in 1862. Their deaths scarred generations of native people and cemented Minnesota as home to the largest mass execution in U.S. history.

I didn’t learn until recently about the mistreatment of indigenous children taken from their parents and forced to attend “assimilation schools” where they were instructed to abandon their way of life which was thought inferior to the ways of white people.

I didn’t know about Mary Turner, an 18 year old pregnant black woman who was tied upside down from a tree and burned to death for questioning her innocent husband’s death. Her unborn baby was cut from her body and trampled. Her story, as shocking as it is, is only one of thousands of stories of the torturing of black bodies in the U.S. Most of the white men who committed these crimes were let free and continue to be let free.

I didn’t grieve the unjust systems throughout our history that put people in categories and burned down black neighborhoods, including the Greenwood neighborhood of Tulsa, OK, where over 300 African Americans were murdered in 2 days. At the order of the Oklahoma government and National guard, more than 6,000 black citizens were arrested. Not one White person was arrested. The looting and rioting that happened following George Floyd’s death was built on generations upon generations of anger over the wrongs of the past.

I was blinded to my own racist thoughts and tendencies. I was lost in a sea of “nice white people”.

Until last summer. George Floyd’s death was a wake up call.

I am not the same. Nothing is the same.
I can no longer ignore the racism all around me. Some say we’ve come a long way, but for me, I’m just beginning.

Lament and repentance is the first step to change. Forgiveness and healing cannot begin until we all become more aware of the historical roots of the problem and acknowledge the harm caused. As I have begun to dig a little and learn about the black and indigenous history in this country that many like to white wash and cover up, doing nothing and saying nothing is no longer an option.

In Latasha Morrison’s book Be the Bridge – Pursuing God’s Heart for Racial Reconciliation, she writes, “Have you ever been afraid of someone just because of the color of his or her skin? If you have, whether you’re white, black, or brown, you have confession work to do”. I have realized that I fear what I do not know. And I believe what I have been told. I was told that the city is a dangerous place and that the most dangerous neighborhoods are filled with people who are not white. I believed this stereotype.

I am sorry for my silence. I will use my voice and privilege to bring about change along with the incredible generation of truth tellers and justice seekers that come behind me – my children. It often feels they are leading me as I try to catch up.

Black Lives Matter.
They always have, but now I’m finally seeing why.

Posted by Tagged with Racism, social justice Posted in Uncategorized

How Do We Love the Poor?

Yesterday I went to Cross of Glory Lutheran Church in Brooklyn Center to volunteer, sorting and distributing food and supplies to those in crisis living in the neighborhood around the church. About 100 people were served in the 3 hours I was there. About 100 more were still in line when I left. They waited in the rain for their number to be called. Once they got into the church, they were given a shopping cart and allowed 1-2 items from each table. The tables included canned goods, boxed food, produce, toiletries, toilet paper, bottled water, and diapers.
The pastor explained to me that they were asked by CAPI (a food shelf across the street) to host the giveaway, after the death of Duante Wright. It was not something the church was looking for. The invitation to help came in a time of crisis. However, the church now sees the neighbors with needs are not going away.

A crisis helps us to become aware of a need that was there all along.

I was surprised when I asked on my Facebook friends for recommendations of organizations that were actively reaching the Brooklyn Center Community. I received word of over a dozen individuals or groups who were on the ground serving there. I know that is only a snapshot of what was actually happening.
The day I volunteered, the church and CAPI received donations from people driving over 30 minutes to bring their car loads food, diapers, toilet paper, and hygiene products. One woman owned a coffee shop in Mpls and collected donations from her customers. Another worked for a company that collected donations from their co-workers. A few of the donors were white haired, “nice Lutherans” who were so eager to deliver their contributions.
It was wonderful to see all the people, many from the suburbs, all of a sudden appearing ready to help, but it made me wonder – why now?

The crisis woke us up to a need that has always been there. The poor have always been among us.


I went home after my day of volunteering to my warm house, a hot meal, and my comfy couch. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the people standing in line in the rain, waiting for food and diapers.

When I say poor, I’m talking about those who are not sure if they will have a roof over their head tonight or food to eat for their next meal. I also speak of those who feel buried by the rubble of their past. Those who have been born as children of poverty and can’t get out of the cycle they are in. It is incredibly complicated. If it was easy, our world would have figured out a way to eliminate poverty by now.

I opened up the Bible on my phone and typed in the word “poor” in the search. Here are a few verses that jumped out at me.

Proverbs 21:13 NIV
13 Whoever shuts their ears to the cry of the poor will also cry out and not be answered.

Psalm 70:5 NIV
5 But as for me, I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliverer; LORD, do not delay.

Psalm 82:3 NIV
3 Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed

Proverbs 29:7 NIV
7 The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern

Matthew 19:21 NIV
21 Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.

Luke 14:13 NIV
13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind

These are just a few of the verses in the Bible asking for a response in caring for the poor. There are over 160 more if you want to read them yourself.

If loving the poor is stressed so much in the Bible, why do most Christians that I know, myself included, put this into a side category of our lives? When I look for people who are already doing the work, I notice they rarely talk about it or ask for help. They are too busy working and are consumed by the needs in front of them.

Maybe you are one of those who are already giving sacrificially to serve the poor. I would love to hear from you what your greatest needs are.

I want to be moved to action daily, and not just in times of crisis. Poverty is not going away. I’m thankful for “wake up calls” that remind us not to ignore the needs around us.

Posted by Posted in Uncategorized

The Way to Love

In a time of political division and cancel culture

Some people are only pleased if you tell them what they want to hear. Most people are just looking for others to validate what they already know and think. We gravitate towards certain news sources that say things in ways we agree with. The Internet knows this and suggest the sources that we should read past in past clicks and likes. We gravitate toward those who are most like us. We don’t challenge ourselves to question whether our way of thinking could be flawed or incomplete.

As a people pleaser who has close family and friends on both sides of the political aisle, I have become accustomed to silently listening to people “go off!” I hear the arrogance on both sides and wonder if they realize how ridiculous they sound.

I’ve heard all of these statements in one week.

“Those Liberals are the problem!”
“When _________is out of office, we can get back to normal”
“ (leader or politician) is an idiot!” “Black lives matter!”
“Blue lives matter!”
“All lives matter!”
“He should have known better than to run from the cops”
“There’s no such thing as a good cop”
“I support all police officers and the military no matter what”.
“I’m moving to Canada!”

I don’t speak up much and through all this quiet listening I’ve realized –
1. There are very loving and well meaning individuals who are both conservative and liberal.
2. The extremes on both sides seem unwilling to listen and quickly decide that those with different opinions are idiots, heathens, or wackos.
3. People are angry. We say crazy things when we are upset.
4. Most people never take the time to question their own way of thinking and change their opinions or admit that their comments may be triggering to others who live different lives or have different experiences than them.

How did this divide happen and what can we do about it?

Can we confess when we run too quickly away from conflict or think that we have all the answers?

Can we speak up when we see hate being spewed on others, and stand up for those with less privilege?

Can we allow others to be angry, while at the same time, looking behind the anger, and asking “why?”

Posted by Posted in Uncategorized

Lord, have mercy

Following the shooting of Daunte Wright.

Today a fresh wave of pain and unrest blanketed Minneapolis after the shooting of 18 year old Daunte Wright. It is yet another day when black men will ask themselves “Am I safe? Will this happen to me?” Another day when mothers of black sons wonder if the next one to be killed will be their son.

I often hear people debating in times like this whether the officer was to blame or whether the victim was “a criminal” and was deserving of their fate. Many respond with “I need to see the video or get all the facts before I can form an opinion. I need to know more about the person who was shot before I know how bad I should feel about it.” I personally believe that no one deserves to die, no matter who they are or what they have done. Nobody deserves to be killed.

This is my prayer today.

I feel so grieved right now.
I see the mix of fear, anger, and weariness that the black community is experiencing.
I see the protesters and mourners, flooding the streets, and imagine you, Jesus, standing among them.
Why am I so quick to form an opinion based on human sources? Why not go to you, my heavenly source? Why do I care more about the safety of my property that is here today and gone tomorrow than for the cries of the unheard?

I open my ears to listen and my mouth to admit when I’ve been wrong, prideful, and ignorant. Throughout my life, I have knowingly and unknowingly upheld white supremacy and put people into categories based on the color of their skin. I admit that I have not been willing to step outside of my comfortable fence and beyond my white neighborhood and white friends. I admit that I have been unwilling to change and daily feel the “need to be right”.
Teach me to live alongside people that don’t look like me, talk like me, or think like me. This includes those who I don’t understand. This includes your beautiful creations who are queer, non-binary, and transgender. This includes those whose hearts are full of hate. This includes EVERYONE WITH A HEARTBEAT.


Your love for ALL is wider and deeper than we can ever imagine, but help me to know a taste of it, so that this love can overflow to others.

I grieve alongside the black community today. I don’t pretend to understand, but I do feel the weight of their accumulated losses. Jesus, wrap your arms around them right now and bring justice and healing. Correct me, soften my heart, and if I can be a part of bringing people together to do the hard work of healing reconciliation, I say yes.




Posted by Posted in Uncategorized

The Gravy Years

My friend Annette, who has 4 grown adult children, calls the years of elementary school “the gravy years”. These are the years when parents are through the potty training and sleep deprived infant and toddler stage and before puberty and teen drama arrive.

My husband and I are enjoying “the gravy years” now with our 7 and 10 year olds. We had our first two kids, now 17 and 19, when we were newly married. The first time around, I don’t think we fully appreciated those years. I spent most of my time worrying about whether I was doing things wrong and comparing myself to an unachievable ideal in my mind. I didn’t realize what I had when I had it, how fast those years would go by, and how much I would miss them when they were gone.

Our older kids back when they were “the littles”


There are some great things about having teenagers too, and I’m sure I will miss these years as well someday, but there is just something about witnessing the elementary years a second time around.

Here’s what I love about these “gravy years”.

1. We tuck the kids into bed each night with snuggle time, reading, and telling stories about the day. It’s nice to know they will sleep through the night (more than they used to)

2. They aren’t embarrassed to be around us parents and they enjoy time with family.

3. Travel is much easier than when they were little. We can hop in the car and drive a few hours without complaint. There are less stops and booster seats are so much easier than infant seats.

4. We know their friends and their friends’ parents. They are home before 9pm and we always know where they are and who they are with.

5.. We can eat in a restaurant again without a highchair.

6. No more diaper bag!

7. The kids can stay with Grandparents or a babysitter so that mom and dad can have date nights and an occasional getaway!

What are your favorite things about the elementary years?