Somehow I missed The Jungle in high school.
When I read Upton Sinclair’s classic as a young adult it changed things. While most readers recall the horrifying details of Chicago’s turn-of-the-century meatpacking industry I saw myself in Jurgis Rudkus.
I don’t know about anyone else but it’s been really hard to stay positive in 2017.
Just when I think I’ve got myself into a positive mental groove something pops up that just drags me back into the mud.
Driving back from Las Vegas a couple weeks ago– the Aztecs were 6-0, ranked 18th in the nation, and favored to win all their remaining games.
[I just spent 4 hours in the garden this morning. It’s helped me get over the Aztec loss last night. At least a little.)
My life is like my garden.
Why am I showing you a picture of dirt?
I’m showing you this dirt because I made it. It’s important to me. It’s no ordinary dirt. This dirt has a story to tell.
As I’ve shared before, our family is on a journey transforming our yard, from something chemically controlled and non-native to something organic and more respectful to where we live.
So what’s that got to do with dirt? Specifically the dirt in this picture?
Let’s start here.
A complicated relationship exists between the United States and Mexico.
As a resident of Southern California I’m well aware of this.
Recently, I splurged on nice gardening pruners.
I had an old pair, maybe from a garage sale or purchased 15 years ago, but they were worn out and dull and didn’t work quite right.
Kristen and I had been AT&T customers since 1998. But rising costs, ever-crappier customer service, and sky-high international data plans lead us to leave AT&T in mid-June.
Is your church a safe place for anyone in the community to come?
I know that’s a loaded question… “Adam, safe for whom?” In this case, I mean is your church a safe place to come regardless of immigration status? As a San Diego resident living in Mid-City you might imagine this is highly relevant as we live in a community of documented and undocumented immigrants and refugees.
On Tuesday, our family of five returned from a 10-day trip to Mexico City. We had a great time going places none of us had ever been before. We stayed in a beautiful apartment 8-stories above a busy Centro Historico street. We went to museums. We got lost looking for an ATM. We toured pyramids. We went to the zoo. We ate expensive food in restaurants that was bad and cheap street food that was amazing. Our 6-year old won too many games of Uno. In a frenzy we put together a puzzle before we caught our flight.