I am obsessed with the song Chandelier by Sia. My first listen was when my 13-year-old showed me the video. A captivating dance accompanies the song. A still-curveless, 11-year-old girl wearing a skin-colored leotard is shocking as she spins and flips through a dirty, gray apartment. Her flawless moves are at times graceful and at other times purposefully disconcerting. She portrays someone who is clearly mentally unbalanced. She is alone and confused, which is the perfect fit for the solitary, ashen setting. Striking. Disturbing. Sad. Hollow. But it’s so beautiful and I cannot...
One two three one two three drink
I am obsessed with the song Chandelier by Sia. My first listen was when my 13-year-old showed me the video. A captivating dance accompanies the song. A still-curveless, 11-year-old girl wearing a skin-colored leotard is shocking as she spins and flips through a dirty, gray apartment. Her flawless moves are at times graceful and at other times purposefully disconcerting. She portrays someone who is clearly mentally unbalanced. She is alone and confused, which is the perfect fit for the solitary, ashen setting. Striking. Disturbing. Sad. Hollow. But it’s so beautiful and I cannot...
From time to time I post pictures of my husband and kids playing music on Facebook. A few days ago, I received this letter (edited).
“Hey J.J., I have question for you. My dream is to sit around in the living room together as a family, spending time together by playing music and worshipping God. However I have never seen this played out before. When I see all these photos of your husband playing music with your kids, I think: 'That’s it. That’s what I want!' Is there some advice or...
I have spent the entire summer feeling guilty for leaving my three kids home alone while I worked. Even though my oldest is 13 and I was gone just five hours a day at the most, I felt the angst. School starts Monday and I now feel guilty that I am happy to send them to school so I can lose my guilt about leaving them home. I'm guilty about not feeling guilty - or something like that!
Our society teaches us that everything is possible. We see what others are...
I was in my dim hotel room working on a blog post about hope. My family slept deeply nearby after a long day of extreme touristing, and I sat where I could see Niagara Falls lit with colors of the rainbow. I popped over to CNN for a distraction from my writing that was going nowhere and unfortunately found there the news of Robin Williams’ death.
My heart dropped. When I read his death was most likely a suicide, my hope went out that window and evaporated with the mist. Darn it, Robin...
I am usually a wreck. My mind is a minefield, explosions of distraction with each passing minute. Oh, I should write that down. Oh, I need to look up a recipe. Oh, I wish I were a crafty mom. Oh, I need to call that person. Oh, my kid needs new shoes. Oh, we’re out of toothpaste. Oh, the husband and I haven’t been communicating lately. Oh, I let that person down. Oh, I should call my parents. Oh, the dryer is finished. Oh, I was supposed to leave for work five...
In one hour, I have to be walking out the door. I have been holding in the back of my mind for a few weeks now the nagging desire to publish a blog post.
But I haven’t taken the time to write because I’ve been trying to be intentional about other stuff. About not brushing my family aside while I write about how awesome my family is. Ya know.
So in these few minutes I have this morning, I will share a random smorgasbord of tedious thoughts:
1. #tfios #dftba If you...
