Part of Andrew Peterson's Resurrection Letters

"We welcome you in because we think you'll give us what we want. We believe

that our true motives are hidden from you--you who made the world with a
word. We spread our coats and wave our hands and cry "save" and you ride
with your back straight and your face drawn, indulging us because you don't
want to hurt our feelings. You accept our hosannas because you know that
even if the heart is false the words are true, and for now, that is enough.
You come in the name of the Lord. Son of David, you come to save us. You
come to save a fickle people, who one minute cry for help and the next cry
for blood, and it is both help and blood that you give us."

los pies

Its been a while now since I've been able to see my toes. I discovered recently that I can no longer see the bottom half of my belly either. Its underside disappears right after my belly button. This is strange. I'm pretty reconciled to not seeing the back of my head, or my shoulder blades, or even the underside of my knees . . . but my toes?!? Don't get me wrong, I do not have my sisters feet. I don't miss the sight of them for any aesthetic value they may add to my life. But they've been a pretty constant companion these last 25 years . . . and to see them but infrequently is an adjustment. So I painted my toes tonight. Getting to them was the tricky part, but I waved the little brush around in their general direction and managed to keep the color on my feet and not on the couch.
I'm ridiculously proud of myself.

Justice

Ben and I had several great conversations with people this weekend. The kind of conversation that you wake up thinking about the next day. I find myself replaying snippets of the dialog in my head, discovering that I've been given a wider understanding of what it means to care deeply about the world I live in. One of the conversations happened last night over 3 pounds of popcorn with very dear friends. We talked about inequality, racism, genocide, and the realizations that call us into action. We talked about politics. We disagreed. We came to a common expression of discontent and frustration - to anger over the "least of these" who inevitably suffer in the meantime. And I was once again resolved to care deeply about injustice, to surround myself with people who care, to DO something.
And then I got a speeding ticket today.
I wasn't in a hurry. I was passing someone who was going "too slow." I was going 43 in a 35 zone when I saw the cop car swing out behind me.
And I was angry.
I don't get speeding tickets. I don't go to STOP class. I'm the one who could find myself looking into the my rear-view mirror at flashing lights, thinking of reasons why I don't deserve to owe 119 dollars to the Lincoln Police Department!
Because I think I love the idea of justice when I am undeniably on its side.

The Hermans

I'd like to describe one of the happiest things about my life right now. The Hermans. It all started with my brother Jay, who started calling my sister Melissa "Herman" (what you get when the Spanish word for sister - hermana - is edited to remove the feminine "a" ending). This nickname quickly spread to the rest of the siblings. You see, we can all be Herman because its gender neutral! Which makes Christmas a bit tricky unless we agree to use our real names. As the siblings have started getting married, the Hermans have grown to include Ben and Liz. And right now, all the Hermans live in Lincoln. I can't even describe how brilliantly wonderful this is. Ben lives approximately 5 blocks away. Melissa's house is a 5 minute drive away. Jay and Liz live even closer . . . If the couch I am sitting on were to crash through my floor, I would be in their apartment. This is bliss.
It is honestly one of the greatest things about this time in my life. Melissa randomly stopped by this evening. Jay and Liz heard my obnoxiously loud greeting I'm sure and came up to investigate. I get to bump into my family all the time. And I always love the afternoons when all 6 of the Hermans end up in the same place. I don't know how long this will last, but for now its one of the sweetest things ever. And if all goes according to plan, all the Hermans will be around in May to welcome the first member of the generation of "Prims". . . hmmm, new tradition?