every year our family makes a summer bucket list, a collection of things we'd like to experience/do/achieve/accomplish during the summer. we don't always get all of them done, but we usually get through most of them. some of the items are traditions that we do every year, and some are unique to each year. and of course our graphic designer wife/mom makes it look super awesome, as a kind of family memoir. here are some from previous years: but this year i felt kind of weird about sharing it. i mean, my news feed is full of stories of kids being stowed in enclosures made of metal fencing (not cages, we are told); kids who have been ripped from their parents' arms. children who probably don't have a summer bucket list, or if they do it just says, "get back to my parents," or "escape." i cannot fathom a more fundamentally blunt symbol of our own privilege and blessing: that we will engage in a summer of camps and cream soda,
a collection of words about God and life and art and baseball and football and hope and my family and my ministry and music and the immense joy in each moment of all of it. it's a record of being human. welcome.