Knowing that everybody worships something and that all you have to do is look at how they spend their time and conversation to see what that thing is / things are, I become increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of my kids growing up thinking that spiritual life consists of mainly praying to a laptop all day and doing the occasional service project. I don't necessarily want to toss them deep into the throes of a highly-structured religious life, but my fondest wish for them isn't to see them sink into the type of navel-gazing malaise that _sometimes_ crops up in the absence of any kind of structure whatsoever. As a youth, I spent a lot of time in bible studies and learning-by-doing things like spiritual discipline, how to examine a text, and how to notice things and question things. What I'm hoping to do is provide them with a framework for doing that too, whatever that might end up looking like for them. And for the love of all that's holy, I want them to understand that many people in the world don't have the resources and autonomy that they do, and to be cognizant of that as they orient themselves to life.
How fitting that I was already tearing up after getting through just the foreword of this book ("After years of doubt and deconstruction, we'd made peace with the meandering nature of our own faith journeys, but raising our little boy to do the same seemed daunting. We had no models for that, no roadmap."), and seeing that it was written by Rachel Held Evans. Even from beyond the grave, she's there just being real.
Anyway, as a family that cares about continuing a healthy framework for faith in our house but isn't really sure how to go about doing it, this book seems tailor-made for us. It's chock full of ideas for little questions and rituals to enrich the things you already do. Most of them seem like very gentle ways to introduce the idea of intentionality, and to set an example of stopping and examining things sometimes, appreciating or grieving in a moment, etc., before moving on. Again, to quote the foreword, it "illuminates the sacred in the everyday."
I've bookmarked some ideas that look like things we could do as a family (the butterfly chrysalis thing, anyone?), and I'm excited to try them. Though initially I thought of this as a book I was reading for "parenting purposes," admittedly now I realize I'm probably the person in this house who could most benefit from some structured stopping-to-enjoy-and-examine moments in my day. Touché, Traci Smith. Touché.