children at advent

Two days ago Rosie had a new career goal. “When I grow up I want to be Hillary Clinton,” she said. “Wait, no. I just want to be President.”

Yesterday in the car she had another plan. 

“When I grow up I want to open a family bookshop.” I thought she meant a bookstore for families, but she meant a family business - she wants the four of us to run the bookshop.

“What should I call it?” she asked. I suggested a few alliterative names. She liked Rosie’s Reads.

A minute later, Owen said, “When I grow up, the third thing I’m going to do is open a park.”

"Wait," I said, "what are the other two?"

"You remember," he said. "Make Pokemon videos" (for youtube) "and play soccer. What should my park be called?"

"Peterson’s Playground!" Rosie exclaimed. "Yeah," Owen smiled.

My children sit in the back of my 2003 Honda, eating pretzels and cheese nips and raisins and m&ms, talking about their dreams. At night they stay up too late reading, fall asleep under down comforters.

In Aleppo this morning, hungry children watch their homes burn, see their friends shot.

In Aleppo this morning, 100 children were trapped in a building under heavy attack and some 80 civilians are thought to have been executed. 

It seems the world has been weeping for the slaughter of innocents for thousands of years.

We are still here, still saying, come, emmanuel, come. Put death's dark shadow to flight.

I've been supporting Syrian refugees through Preemptive Love and the Mennonite Central Committee. We can't just pray for God to be with us now; we must also act.