Because of Thanksgiving, all four of my kids were home for the weekend. I had placed a lot of importance on the idea that we would all six be together in church on Sunday for the first time in over a year, so when the teenagers started fussing about having to get up early and go, I was teetering right on the edge of tearfulness.

In the end, we all got there, mostly on time. But we had to sit in two different pews--ironic, yes?

The one who never sings, prays, or participates in any way? Well, I was grateful she was there, of course. But then I was pondering how when she she received communion, that would impart a little grace to her whether she liked it or not -- AND SHE DIDN'T GO TO COMMUNION!

Part of me was quite sad; part of me knows she is a little wanna-be rebel. Of course I said nothing, but my mother's heart grieved a little.

Then, twenty minutes later, the youth minister is telling me that she needs the deposit for this child's mission trip. WHAT?

I think she is a girl of action, not abstraction.

And I think God has no grandchildren.