I am a non-believer who can't draw. So naturally, for my 100-Day Instagram Project, I chose to do 100 drawings titled "Today, God is..."
When someone asks what you've been doing the last couple of decades, it's good to have something to show for it. Here's an excerpt from my recent Christmas letter. Just for fun.
Walker, our oldest, lives with four other 20 year-olds in a house in Northeast Minneapolis, which the landlord is not allowed to see without 24 hours notice, and adults with even modest expectations of cleanliness are discouraged from visiting, period. He's taking a break from school (small break, we hope) to pursue his dream job at a bike shop. An interesting kid, he's now a biking, pierced, tattooed, grease-covered, anti-establishment, interesting young man. We still have family dinners and great philosophical conversation; he just isn’t allowed to sit on the furniture. We've encouraged him to think carefully before adding more tats, as his first one—courtesy of the tattoo convention artist with the shortest line—had a misspelling: All castles made of sand slip into the sea eventlly. A Jimi Hendrix quote. Or should I say, misquote.
Gabe, our youngest, just graduated high school. I’m still not sure how this happened. I don’t mean getting his diploma (though that was iffy toward the end) but how 18 years have disappeared in a bewildering time-warpish way that does and does not explain why we still occasionally find Legos under the rug. Gabe opted to go the U of MN—he made his decision in the last minutes of the last hour of the last day that one could decide—chill out, Mom!—but decided to take a gap year first. Currently, he’s working at the local hardware store. We love this job maybe even more than he does (and not just for the family discount!) because he’s learning carpentry and handyman skills that will have lifelong benefits. Especially since he’s planning to major in art. And did I mention, he just re-glazed the bathroom window? (That is the extent of my holiday letter boasting, I promise.)
