by Erin Robinson Hall | Mar 7, 2016 | Uncategorized |
My son participated in his first mission project when he was two months old. Our church at that time had a summer program of delivering lunches to children in need. Church members and community folks spent all summer packing sack lunches and driving all over the county. One day in late July, there was a need for a driver to deliver lunches. I whispered to my infant son, “Now is as good a time as any to learn, buddy. In this family, this is what we do.” I loaded him up in the carseat, warned the deacon in the passenger seat that I had no idea how many times we would need to stop. She smiled and said “Let’s roll.” A little commotion from a baby didn’t scare her. Yesterday, my family got to serve together again. Our church hosted a mission project day called “Hand in Hand.” Our focus this time was caring for children in foster care in our city. The youngest person was 15 months old and the oldest person was ninety-two years old. Generations ate lunch and worked together. Around the tables were people who would have baffled any political poll. Correlational analysis would struggle to make connections between the views of the mother with three young children, the college professor, the artist, and the retired judge. We split into groups for five different small projects so that we worked with people who were not in our household. Toddlers and empty-nesters filled brown paper sacks with food for children. Teenagers and gray-haired businessmen tied knots to make blankets. A grandson explained to his grandmother what a...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Feb 5, 2016 | Reflections |
This is a picture is from Day 5. The fifth day of the hubs being out of town for work recently. My dear neighbor had asked me that afternoon, “What are you cooking for dinner?” “Um, cereal? Cereal is about all I’ve got in me.” We were fine, really. This is not a complaint about the trip, which was great for Jake. I have no room to complain, because trips away are infrequent in our house. Often when they happen, I am blessed to have my mom or sister visit. Even as I share this, I completely get the fact that my set up is pretty fantastic. But I realized, on about Day 4, that I was making a mental list of little nuggets of wisdom I had collected to share with anyone else who was facing a couple of days of parenting solo until their spouse got back. Just as quickly, I realized there are a few friends who could write an entire book about temporary solo parenting (TSP). I called my friend Angela who parents like a champ while her Air Force husband is frequently sent out on short term assignments called TDY. Her words of wisdom made me spit out my cereal laughing. My friend LeAnn survives the occasional business trip away with hilarious texts and the genius to have a babysitter at the ready. My friend Alyson is superhero mom who parents her three young kiddos while her husband is deployed out of the country for months at a time. Over holidays. Holy. Cow. I collected some of our best practices (read:survival tactics) here. An...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Dec 4, 2015 | Wonder |
Today, I got to stand on hope. Literally. My family attended the dedication of the new fountain in our favorite local park. We watched this building project for months in our trips to the park. Few things thrill a little boy’s heart more than watching real, live construction. Few things thrill this mama’s heart more than learning the theme of this new fountain: a Peace Fountain. Before I could even think of the scripture reference for the first verse that came to mind, I learned that powerful words would be etched around this fountain. Quotes from local people who had worked for justice, peace and love would circle around this fountain. I couldn’t wait to see this tangible picture of the prophet’s words, “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:24) In our city, like many cities, we need the waters of peace like never before. In our city, like many cities, we have people who work to make the fountain of peace come to life. People gave their time, their expertise. People planted trees, spread pinestraw, and donated bricks. People put themselves into this work. The fountain is the centerpiece of a park that has been brought back to life. The last time this fountain stood tall was about 1934. This area and this park have been through years of neglect and disrepair. But through the work of a community coming together, transformation is there. It is a whole new scene. It looks like hope. When my newsfeed began to fill with responses to the latest violence yesterday, hope was not...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Oct 21, 2015 | Reflections |
This one has been sitting in the quiet with me for a while. I’m not a fan of the quiet. Stillness is beautiful. Quiet gets on my very last nerve. Like the clean, white canvas that stared back at me a couple of weeks ago, I have no idea what to do with quiet. I’ve recently gotten into coloring. Like many of my friends, I bought the coloring books with intricate designs and the fine tip markers. As it turns out, coloring is calming. Mindlessly tracing and filling in the patterns on the page is fantastic to empty your mind or at least sort through it. I enjoy it, and when I find a stopping point on the page, I notice my breathing is more calm, and I am generally more relaxed. Take that feeling and then think of the opposite of it. That’s the extreme sense of frustration, inadequacy and fear I felt at a “Paint Night” event two weeks ago. About 20 of us gathered at my friend Wimberley’s studio, and the event itself was just lovely. Painting, drinks, and friends from church in her absolutlely beautiful studio. Wimberley gave us the idea and some instructions: Paint a fall branch set against a colorful stained glass backdrop. Such a beautiful idea, and her example was just gorgeous. Most of us there are not what you might call artsy. Folks laughed, grabbed a paintbrush and began dabbing colors on the canvas like preschoolers with fingerpaints. Except me. I just swirled my paintbrush in the clear water and stared. I may have laughed with friends and joked about the...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Sep 11, 2015 | Reflections |
Sometimes getting inside the church building is hard. I’ve talked to a few friends recently about what it takes to collect all they’ve got and bring it into Sunday’s gathering. Some people get to roll in on Sunday, hands free. They’re ready to smile and mean it. Some folks face obstacles just getting to the door. Like last Sunday. My friend and I compared notes and laughed about how ridiculous it is getting preschoolers fed, dressed, pottied, and ready to walk into church on a sunny day, much less a tornado-like rainy day like we were having. She was by herself, bringing three littles to church. This superhero mom told me it took three trips in and out of the building with the umbrella, supplies and kids ages 6, 2 1/2 and 8 months. We’re talking American Ninja Warrior skills, friends. I had just the one little guy by myself to wrangle into the building during the stormy mess it was a disaster. For me, balancing the umbrella and getting the threenager to steer away from the fun puddles and run with me to the door still meant we were both ridiculously soaked when we reached the door. Another friend told me how she has to take deep, calming breaths to walk towards the sanctuary. Just walking in that door takes her back to her husband’s funeral. She makes it, almost every Sunday. When I think about the way she has to set her face and open her heart I have a new picture of what strength looks like. For her, being in that space means being present with...
