“I Only Have Five More Years,” She Said

Some excerpts from my favorite blog posts from the last week(ish):

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The crowd has become unwieldy, people stumble about, knocking into furniture and each other. Sometimes, they assist one another, smiling with understanding. Sometimes, they grumble and create distance. Some leave.

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My nose is fine, thanks, better every day, but the reminder was a worthwhile one.

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Tomorrow marks seven years of blogging. In seven years, I’ve learned a couple of things about this process.

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Every other Saturday morning, I see them lined up at the top of the hill when I drive by on my way to get coffee or hit the dollar store.  People waiting to get food from what I can only assume is the local food pantry.  They are in the parking lot of the Catholic Church, and sometimes I see them leaving with big, brown paper bags.  I have never stopped.

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We talked about what cool means, and how growing up is hard. And how there is always a new growing up to do. She worried she was running out of time. She said, I only have five more years.

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So let’s dig in. Let’s open our eyes and engage critically. Let’s wrestle together with what it looks like to be not conformed to the world but transformed.