Good morning,
There are two places I know very well at this stage of parenting: the Department of Motor Vehicles and the orthodontist. Yesterday I visited a branch of the DMV to which I hadn’t been before; it was my fifth branch visited in the city of Charlotte. As I stood in line, I imagined a new Instagram influencer account for myself, in which I pen reviews such as the following:
Brookshire Blvd Location: extremely limited indoor seating. The bulk of your waiting time will be spent outdoors, so dress for the weather (I didn’t, and it was pouring, leading me to stand with a newspaper on my head next to my humiliated teenage son.) Employees are extremely helpful and friendly. Give these people a better waiting room so people are nicer to them. 3/5 stars
And Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you all! This wish should serve as your reminder that the lease on the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin is good for 9,000 years. You can see more about this in a highlight (entitled “St. James’ Gate”) on my Instagram account if you’re interested.
The Part Where There’s an Essay
Like you, I’ve been watching the stories out of Ukraine with a weary sadness. I think President Zalenskyy is a shining example of knowing one’s purpose and stepping into it. I imagine it will not end well for him; I pray for his protection often.
Every apartment bombed, every hospital bed disturbed, and every person displaced is another story interrupted. Or worse, another story ended.
I once thought I might be displaced from my home, but it was by a natural disaster, not war or violence. The powerful men near us were coming to help and protect, not lay waste to our entire lives. We watched the news reports and packed a box to sit by the door, full of our precious photos that couldn’t be replaced. Other than that, it would be an extra-full diaper bag and a suitcase as we headed for a shelter. That night, the winds shifted and the fires went down the other side of the mountain, staying out of our neighborhood.
I look at the pictures of the toddlers in their little coats and think of the outing that their moms and dads made to get that coat. They weren’t thinking, “this is the coat my daughter will wear to flee the country,” they were just happy to have the next size up to last out the winter. Maybe they stopped for a coffee on the way home.
So we wait for violent men to turn away from violence; we pray for peace; we pray for the survivors. We send money and we watch the clips of people getting fed. And we wait some more.
For the Anglophiles
If you enjoy British humor, or if, like me, you feel sometimes like your upbringing made you part British, you might enjoy the social accounts run by Very British Problems. They are on Twitter and Instagram.
Reads & Listens of the Week
To have and have not: First, let’s understand how delightful it is that there’s a publication called The Hedgehog Review. Second, here’s Alan Jacobs on the questions of ownership in a digital world:
I have come to think that the prospect of passing my library along helps me to avoid the twin specters of pure ownership and pure consumption. My books are lent to me for a while; I am their caretaker, their steward, not really their owner. Even the ones I have most deeply loved, a love marked with many notes and queries, I will someday be parted from.
In a lengthy piece for The Atlantic, David French explained in more detail why the US isn’t intervening directly in Ukraine: This Is a Uniquely Perilous Moment.
I’ve been enjoying the substack “To the Shire” recently; it’s written by a female author who is reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time. I thought this recent essay was especially brilliant: The Fruit of Obedience:
I am a Christian not because I think we have the best apologetic or the most spotless history. It is not impressive prayer books or liturgy or iconography that keeps me in the faith. It is rather that I think that Jesus is King. Because I believe this, I’ve offered myself to be a bit player in another story. I’ve shown up to be cast into a narrative that may call me to other roles than I am naturally inclined to. I may be cast into a role I do not choose, for glory I may not see.
As a former evangelical teenager, this essay rang true for me: Why is “Re-Converting” Easier than Repenting? “…as I’ve encountered more evangelical culture as an adult, I’ve seen and heard enough to convince me that many church-going evangelicals have a far more vibrant theology of ‘getting saved’ than they have of ongoing repentance in the life of a believer.”
Closer to Home
This week I wrote about Redbud trees, and how much I love them. I also express my hatred for Bradford Pear trees for a full paragraph. It’s not just me:
Anyway, the essay is nicer than this meme. You can read it right here.
Die before you die. There is no chance after. - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces