Somehow I Didn’t Punch Him In the Neck

So, remember when I was all lit about about the book When We Were on Fire?

And I invited all of you to read it and join me for a giant book club discussion over lattes and scones at the world’s biggest Starbucks which might just be in my imagination and an ethereal dream?

I’m still pretty fired up about this memoir.

(No pun intended.)  (Okay, yes it was.)  (It always is.)

Addie Zierman has become one of my favorite authors and contemporary theologians, and (…wait for it…) she invited me to write a guest post on her blog, to her audience, for the people who call her well-written and wise.

Today is the debut: Somehow I Didn’t Punch Him In the Neck.

Please go to Addie’s blog, and give yourself the pleasure of a virtual stroll.  Give her some love.

And order her book.

 

When Authenticity Was a Poor Choice

“Good morning, Tricia! And how are you today?”

I have a half-second lead time to decide: to be authentic or to give a safe answer.

“You know what?” I pause for a moment. For so many reasons. “I’m very sad today.”

“Sad?! Well, that’s because the sun isn’t shining today. I’m sure that’s why.”

Actually, it’s not. I love grey skies. And you don’t have enough in you for me to tell you that I want to pass the parenting baton. Tag the teammate. I don’t think I can do the reading log and the math homework tonight. Plus the baths and the fingernails. And the fighting and the silly. I don’t want to do this anymore, and today I’m not even striving for excellence. I’m putting one foot in front of the other because that’s what needs to happen. So, you know what? You’re the one who asked. I’m sad.  And too tired to pretend I’m not.

“Well, that just won’t do! You’re my ray of sunshine! I count on you to bring sunshine into my life!”

Then don’t. Don’t do that.