love

Being Lovers, Not Fighters

Recently I sent this post out to those who subscribe to our site. I wanted to post it for others too as it’s sparked some good conversations:

I hope you didn’t take my subject line the wrong way because 34 years into my marriage, I’m sticking with my man. But like Michael Jackson sang with Paul McCartney, “I’m a lover, not a fighter!” How about you?

Our national discourse is distressing. And Christians, among whom I count myself,

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Blood and the Occupational Hazards of Love

My granddaughter fell off her little bike and scraped her finger. Blood flowed. Or trickled, more accurately. She cried. Blood, as we all know, is B-A-D. Our bodily integrity has been compromised. We’ve been affected, impacted by something outside of us. And it’s B-A-D. Or so we believe.

After tending appropriately to my granddaughter (she IS three, after all), I told her what I really thought, “A little blood is good. It means you were doing something cool and you tried something new.

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Amateur vs. Professional Lovefests

I was whining about Valentine’s Day in my last post. About it being amateur night and all. I sound like a super-cranky, sour grapes sourpuss (does anyone use that word any more?). And I’m not.

I had a perfectly nice Valentine’s Day (and yet my husband’s and my celebration is yet to come… saving it for the weekend).

My complaint about such Hallmark holidays is that they’re all about the expectations, and then they never match up, and those involved end up feeling crappy about their perfectly good relationships.

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