We’re Moving!

Hello Accidental Missionaries!

Thank you so much for all of your support!  When we started this blog, we thought it might just be a fun way to bore our family and friends with stories, photos, and an occasional metaphor on life.  Five years later, we are surprised and grateful that people from all walks of life have found some inspiration here.

With that in mind, we will be expanding our ministry to offer newsletters, videos, and food for the soul.  We are also looking to create an online community of Accidental Missionaries that are committed to seizing the everyday opportunity to be Christ for their neighbor.

AM New Website

  • A sneak peek at the new site

With this transition, we’ll soon be launching our new website on Squarespace.  For those of you who subscribe via your email address, there will be no changes.  If you subscribed via your WordPress login, we will be double-posting for three months to ease the transition.  During that time, you may wish to opt in to the Squarespace platform to continue receiving our updates.  We’ll have more specific instructions in the coming weeks.  Until then, enjoy the blog!

Peace and blessings to you all,

Scott and Gabby


Filed under Uncategorized

Broken and Beautiful

Last week, our family embarked on a summer vacation to celebrate my brother-in-law’s 50th birthday. Since Owen is a big fan of surfing, we booked a week at a beach house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, known for their tasty waves, abundant sunshine, and an unprecedented number of shark attacks this summer.

In preparation for spending hours floating on a board and looking like a wounded seal, Owen studied up on the best way to minimize the risk of an attack. Apparently, experts say that those not interested in becoming Jaws’ next meal should stay away from warm water, piers, and common fishing grounds. We were also advised to keep an eye out for warning signs, such as bait fish jumping out of the water as if they are being chased by something large and toothy.

A few days into our vacation, we were following the protocols to the letter when someone noticed a tiny triangle pop out of the surf about a hundred yards away from us. Was it a porpoise? A small whale? The fin surfaced a few more times as we feverishly searched Google for how to tell the difference between a shark fin and a dolphin fin. Finally, someone made a suggestion:

“Maybe it’s time for a sand castle building contest?”

Thank you, Charles Darwin.

The kids got to work on the sandcastle of the century while Gabby and I went searching for shells to decorate their creations. I walked to the edge of the water with a bucket in hand. Due to the pounding of the waves, most of the shells had been reduced to random shards, so I moved clumsily as my weak little baby feet grimaced with each step.

I picked through the rubble looking for perfectly formed specimens that had survived the violence unscathed. I found crazy-shaped oyster shells, perfect pink fans, and even some black clams that looked like they had been plucked right out of an aquarium. I put each one in the bucket and carried them back to my nephew, Jack.

Meanwhile, my daughter joined Gabby in the surf to pick just the right shell to decorate her own masterpiece. I turned and noticed her bend over to pick up a tiny, jagged triangle.

She held it out toward my wife.

“Look at this one, Mom!”

Gabby looked down at the fragment,

“That’s great, Audrey. But I’m trying to find a whole shell. One that’s just perfect.”

My daughter glanced up from her hand, caught my wife’s gaze and said,

“Mom… Just because they’re broken doesn’t mean they’re not beautiful.”

AM Broken and Beautiful

Gabby’s face instantly registered that rare emotion. It has no name. But if you are a parent, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s that glorious overlay of surprise, shame, joy, peace, and utter fulfillment that comes when you realize one of your own has just caught you being “of the world” and then teaches you a sublime truth about the nature of God.

After a moment, Gabby responded,

“You’re right, Audrey,” placing a hand on her tiny shoulder. “They’re all beautiful, aren’t they?”

And Audrey smiled.

As you might expect, our shell hunt changed that day. Sure, we still rejoiced in finding the perfect, unblemished shell. But we also took time to appreciate the mosaic of fragments. The way that one color blended into the next. The interesting shapes. The contour of the edges. Arbitrary. Erratic. Smoothed by time and tides, scraping across rough sand. And Audrey gathered them up, one by one, and placed them lovingly into her green bucket.

AM Audrey Shells
* Audrey and her shells

I’ve thought about my daughter’s words a lot over the past few days. I would like to say they are planted firmly at the top of my mind, ready for action the instant I start to question my worth. But sadly, that’s not true.

Instead, her message has been buried, curling around the back wall of my brain. Deep in the dark recesses. Obscured by my own expectations and an overwhelming desire to please others. So when the moments of doubt come, my emotions quickly follow. Wondering turns into worrying. Hesitation becomes hopelessness.

Maybe it’s the same way for you.

Your head gets spun up in “should have’s” and “ought to’s.” You start to focus on all you’ve lost instead of all you have. Failed relationships. Words you can’t take back. Stupid mistakes. The setbacks and storms.

It’s a pastime for us, isn’t it? Lamenting what might have been and wallowing in weakness. In a perfect world these thoughts would never touch our minds. But that perfect world is an impossible mirage, as unrealistic as a soft sand beach brimming with only flawless shells.

But I can take comfort in this: though these thoughts will always come, there will be times when they retreat, if only for an instant. And it’s in these quiet moments that I just need to listen for my daughter’s words, returning to rescue me from myself. Reminding me that all my worry is for nothing. That power is made perfect in weakness. That grace calls us “enough.”

Every. One.

Shattered fragments of the whole.

Seen as God sees us.

Broken and beautiful.

(The Lord) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.(2 Corinthians 12: 9-10)


* Enjoy this post?  And, to see more posts like this, submit your email at the upper right to receive new blogs hot n fresh to your inbox.  Or, Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter @sdannemiller. An for even more good stuff, just order Scott’s recently released book about his family’s Year Without A Purchase on Barnes & Noble or Amazon from WJK Press (We know… dripping with irony…but there’s always the library!).  Cheers!


Filed under Uncategorized

Five Things You Think You Need, But You Don’t

AM Five Things

Not long ago, my wife and I felt like our family was on The Great Hamster Wheel to nowhere. Maybe you feel that way, too. You’re spending a ton of time and effort to earn a paycheck so you can give your family “the good life.” And now you have a lovely home and some neat toys, but you’re often too tired, too stressed, or too busy to truly enjoy it all.

That was us.

So we decided to try a little experiment. We challenged ourselves to check out of the consumer culture for twelve months to see how it might impact our family. Before you think we’re complete whackos, realize that our challenge did not require us generate our own electricity, make underwear out of old burlap sacks, or only eat things we could kill with our bare hands. For us, it was less about saving money and more about focusing on people and shared experiences to see if it might have a positive impact on our relationships. So we lived by a simple set of rules that were restrictive, but not too crazy.

Rule #1: We wouldn’t shop for “stuff.” Sure, we could buy consumable items (think food, cleaners, hygiene products, etc.), but if it couldn’t be used up within the year, we put in the “non-essential” category.

Rule #2: If something broke, we could fix it unless we already had a suitable replacement lying around.

Rule #3: Gifts had to be in the form of charitable donations or “experiences” to be shared.

Entering this challenge, we recognized two things. First, the majority of humans on the planet live by these rules (or even more restrictive ones) out of necessity. In fact, my wife and I had spent a year serving as missionaries in Guatemala, and experienced first-hand how anything beyond food and shelter is a luxury for those living in poverty. So our experiment wasn’t really a sacrifice.

Second, there are far too many people like us in the United States who live under manufactured stress, never realizing that our never-ending quest for more is what is ultimately giving us the feeling of dissatisfaction.

While you can read about entire 12-month journey in our book, The Year without a Purchase, here are a few nuggets we have personally found helpful to review now that we’re finally allowed to shop again.



My wife often asks me, “Are you naked from the waist down?”

As you might imagine, this question always captures my full attention. That is, until I realize that she is simply responding to my comment that, “I need a new pair of pants.”

Clothing is one of the big areas where we often confuse “need” with “want.” And I’m not the only one. The EPA estimates that each American throws away nearly seventy pounds of clothing per year.

Seventy pounds!

So, I only need those new pants if I am, as my wife says, in danger of getting arrested for public indecency. Otherwise, it’s an option. And our family was able to survive an entire year without buying a single stitch of clothing. And no one made fun of us.

At least not to our faces.


It is estimated that the average American home contains over 300,000 items, and America itself is home to 50,000 self-storage facilities. That’s over twice the number of Starbucks locations worldwide! Our problem isn’t that we don’t have enough storage, it’s that we have too much stuff.

Often times we hold onto items because we can easily rationalize their value to us, whether it’s sentimental, or tangible. We can think of millions of situations where we might need an item. Yet, miraculously, we haven’t needed the item but one time in the past four years.

If you’re holding onto something, take the “Not Much, Not Me” challenge by asking yourself these two questions. 1) “What horrible thing would happen if I didn’t have this thing in the future?” and 2) “Who would get the most use out of this thing?” If the answers are “Not much” and “Not me,” get rid of it and get a small piece of your life back.


There used to be a time when auto makers touted a three-year cycle for purchasing new vehicles. Whether that was ever true is subject to debate, but the latest research shows the average age of vehicles on the road is 11.4 years.

Today, cars last far longer than they used to, and are far cheaper to maintain. Whenever you get that urge to upgrade and take on another car payment, remember this statistic: it only costs $151 more per year to maintain a car between 6-15 years old than it does to maintain a newer auto. That’s far less than a single month of payments, and the old wheels still get you from point A to point B.


Hypocrisy alert! It’s hard for me to write this, as my family is in the process of moving to a different home. But any time we say, “our little 1700 square foot house is too small,” we know it’s all in our heads. Even though our two extremely loud kids make the place feel like an echo chamber.

But statistics show the average American home size has nearly tripled since the 1950’s. Back then, a single family home averaged just 983 square feet. Today, it’s 2624. At the same time, the average size family has shrunk from 3.5 people to 2.5. Granted, people are bigger these days, but I’m guessing we don’t need an extra 1641 square feet for our girth alone.

Bottom line: rather than asking, “What are we missing by not having more space?” I need to remind myself to ask, “What do we gain by being closer together as a family?”


Ah yes! This was one of the biggest things I learned from our experiment. When I found myself wanting to buy something, whether it was different clothes or a different car, I would have to ask, “Why do you want it?” At best, I simply wanted the item because it would make my life simpler or better. Like a four slice toaster or an ultra-thin laptop for traveling.

But often, when I dug beneath the surface, there were many things I wanted because I thought they would make me better.

I am a professional, so I should get some better clothes!

How can my clients take me seriously if I show up to our meeting in my 15-year-old, compact car?

Our kitchen table looks like it’s been bouncing down a rocky cliff since the late 1980’s and just now landed in our house. What does that say about us?!

You see, “stuff” isn’t inherently bad. What is bad is the meaning we derive from it. The instant we begin to let our stuff define who we are, that’s when we start to tell Our Maker that the way he designed us just isn’t good enough. When we start to compare the cutting room floor of our own lives with the highlight reel on Facebook or TV commercials, we start to believe that perfect is normal. We start to believe that we are “less than.” We start to believe our worth is tied up in how others perceive us.

Here’s a news flash for you. There is no bigger lie.

The truth is, whatever your life situation, your stuff does not define you. In the end, the only thing we truly need is to fill ourselves to overflowing with the knowledge that we are all beautifully flawed and wonderfully made. To see ourselves as God sees us, and then give that same unconditional love to others.

I’ll buy that.

And I hope you will, too.

* Enjoy this post?  For more, just preorder Scott’s book about his family’s Year Without A Purchase on Barnes & Noble or Amazon launching August 4th from WJK Press (We know… dripping with irony…but there’s always the library!). And, to see more posts like this, submit your email at the upper right to receive new blogs hot n fresh to your inbox.  Or, Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter @sdannemiller.  Cheers!


Filed under Uncategorized

Incredibly Ironic Cheap-o Book Offer for Blog Followers

Hey there avid readers!  By now, you’ve probably figured out that I wrote a book called The Year without a Purchase about not buying anything for a year.  Some of you were there with us to follow along on the blog, and maybe even tried the little experiment yourselves.  For this, we thank you!


* Me visiting my book at a friend’s house, since she got it before I did. But I’m not bitter.

Now we’re redefining irony and hypocrisy by selling the book about not buying anything.  Our publisher, Westminster John Knox Press, has been kind enough to provide a special discount code for those who want to get in on the preordering.  So, if you have any interest, you can visit the publisher page and enter the code YEAR40 at checkout to get 40% off the cover price. (New price = $9.00 just for you!) The page even has a gigantic button to download the first two chapters for free so you can try before you buy.

That said, if you are a loyal Amazon or Barnes & Noble person who gets free shipping, you can visit their sites and purchase as well.  B&N has a slightly better deal at the time, but that can always change.

Thanks again for being loyal followers of the blog.  We’re grateful.




Filed under Uncategorized

To The Moms: My Apologies

Hey there folks!  I wrote a piece a couple of weeks ago that has spread across the interwebs like wildfire.  Or a case of herpes.  It all depends upon your perspective, I guess.  While many found the piece helpful and uplifting, some of those who read it were deeply offended.

To those who I offended, I sincerely say thank you for taking the time to write to me comments or emails and let me know about it.  I appreciate hearing your perspective.  The online forum is an open one where everyone can and should participate via email or otherwise.

First off, the words on my page are mine, and I own the fact that they hurt some people, including you.  This was not the intended result, but it is indeed what happened, and for that, I apologize.  Some interpreted my words to mean that I hated crafting, that people who do it are only doing it to impress other moms, and that everyone should stop doing it because it was a big waste of time.  Again, not the intent, but that’s how some viewed it, in many cases due to the way I crafted the message.  I’ve been called a “dick”, “sociopathic”, a “sack of shit”, a “douchebag”, an abusive husband, awful father, misogynist, and much more.   I haven’t read all of the comments, but I definitely got the message.

My blog was aimed specifically at moms who are constantly trying to keep up with some image of perfection in their heads.  It was for the ones who see gifted moms doing wonderful things and then thinking they are not good enough because they can’t measure up.  I wanted to highlight that this competition was all in their minds because most of these people who do the fun crafts are doing it because they love it, not because they want to one-up another mom.  My wife is one of the people who created the cute little fruit cups out of a sense of obligation, staying up late and wondering why she was doing it.  This is all spelled out in the article, but my attempt at humor obscured this message for some.

The “Suzie” I mention in the article is not a real person.  She’s just a caricature and not reality.    What I was trying to convey is that Suzie is good at being Suzie and she should keep doing what she loves.  Because Suzie isn’t judging.  She’s just doing it out of love.  It’s the intent that truly matters.  And I honor your intent and celebrate it.  If that did not come across in my article, I am sorry for that.

With that said, I do hope you will continue reading, but I completely respect your decision if you don’t.  Thanks again for your attention.

Peace to you and yours,



Filed under Uncategorized

To The Moms: Just Stop It

Writers note:  While most have found this piece helpful and uplifting, some have been offended by it.  If you get to the bottom (or even just mid-way through) and find yourself wanting to punch your computer screen, please read my apology.

I got home after midnight from a business trip last night. That’s probably why I didn’t notice it until the morning. This bag. Alone. On the kitchen table.

Moms bag

Normally, getting my kids to the breakfast table is like trying to coax a couple of cats into a swimming pool. As soon as they wake up, they hide under blankets on the couch and make strange noises. But this morning was a different story.

Audrey came out of the bedroom, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and went right to the table. She sat in front of the bag with a smile on her face.

“What’s the bag for?” I asked as I created my super-duper breakfast parfaits. Colorful layers of yogurt, fruit, and cereal.

“We got it for our end-of-year party yesterday.” She reached into the bag.

“What did you get?”

She started pulling out different items and commenting.

“Goldfish crackers… Some cookies… ooooooh! Gummy worms! And a mustache!”


The morning went on as usual, with me reminding the kids to brush their teeth, make their beds, and get a summer job. (Note: “I’m only seven” is not an excuse.) We finally made it out the door and walked to school as a family unit.

When Gabby and I got back home, I tidied up the breakfast mess before getting to work. When I reached down to pick up all of the things that Audrey had removed from her bag, I did a double-take.

moms all goodies

moms fish

moms worms

moms orange

moms cups

Every single item was accessorized. Little notes. Ribbons. Sayings. Like a professional stylist had just prepped them for the red carpet at some weird awards ceremony for pre-packaged snacks.

Follow me on this one. I truly appreciate that people have taken so much time to make sure my child felt important yesterday. Craftiness is a gift. One I do not possess. I am awestruck by the flawless execution of cuteness on these snacks. And I realize the inherent hypocrisy of my statement, since I am guilty of adding a bit of “flair” to the breakfast parfaits from time-to-time.

But for some of you, it’s exhausting, right?

As the man who is married to the person who reluctantly put googley eyes and a graduation cap on all the fruit cups, I feel I am qualified to offer this sage advice to the mothers of the world who do this kind of thing through gritted teeth out of a sense of obligation.

Stop it!

Just. Stop. It.

Here’s a theory for you. There’s a type of person who actually enjoys doing this kinda thing. She sits whistling in her craft room, making little doo-dads out of marshmallow fluff and fairy turds while bluebirds flit about her shoulders — and she’s having fun. Meanwhile, all the rest of the moms are like:

“$#!+. That f’in party is tomorrow, and I gotta’ come up with something cute for the kids, cause you know Susie Craftsalot is gonna’ make the Taj Mahal of lemon bars. Here, let me just slap some googley eyes and some construction paper on this fruit cup and call it good.”

So now we’re all working to impress Susie Craftsalot, hoping to measure up. All the while, she doesn’t give a flying unicorn fart what we made.  Not because she thinks she’s better, but because she’s honestly, genuinely surrounded by the intrinsic joy of making creative stuff. That, or she’s too damn distracted by the little field mouse she trained to ride a unicycle to deliver her handmade, end-of-year teacher gifts.

Whatever the case, for most of you moms out there, the competition is all in your head. And so is Susie Craftsalot.   Some folks love to do this kinda’ thing, and that’s totally cool.  But if it’s not you, then don’t try to be something you’re not. Because the results of our endless impress-a-thon are not good. A survey of 7,000 women show that their average stress level is 8.5 out of 10. Nearly 50% report suffering from “Pinterest Stress” – not feeling crafty enough. And three out of four say “the pressure they place on themselves is worse than any pressure or judgment they get from other moms.”

I remember when crackers used to be enough. You probably do, too. Can we get back to that place, please? Deep down, we know we’re not doing it for the kids. They couldn’t care less. My daughter didn’t even notice the adornments. But she did appreciate the snacks.

And you know what? No one will judge you for bringing a box of Chips Ahoy. Or an unopened bag of string cheese. And if they do, why do you care? Pardon my fit of cynicism here, but we spend far too much time and effort worrying about what others will think, forgetting that most don’t even notice.  And those few who do are likely too self-absorbed to be a true friend to you anyway.

So stop it. No more worrying. No more needless effort.  No more made-up competition.

Because oranges are enough.

Cookies are enough.

You are enough.

* Enjoy this post?  For more, just preorder Scott’s book about his family’s Year Without A Purchase on Barnes & Noble or Amazon launching August 4th from WJK Press. And, to see more posts like this, submit your email at the upper right to receive new blogs hot n fresh to your inbox.  Or, Like us on Facebook.  Cheers!


Filed under Uncategorized

What Would Happen If We Just Quit Asking?

AM Quit Asking

“Remember! Take your time! It’s not a race!”

I called out to my son as he headed off to school to take standardized tests last week. We had heard horror stories from other parents about how their kids were filled with anxiety over being assessed, curling up into crying balls on the floor. To prevent this problem, we didn’t talk about the exams at all, save for this one piece of advice.

Later that afternoon, Jake came bounding in, filled with energy.

“How was your test today, buddy?” I asked.

“Good,” he chirped.

I prodded, looking for more detail. “Just good?”

“Yeah. I’m white.”


“The test says I’m white.”

“What do you mean?” I was confused, wondering if this was a new category on his color-coded behavior chart. Or maybe they had already received their test results and he was in the “white” range.

“Someone filled out the top part of the test for us. Ben was black. Arjun got Asian. I got white.”

He “got” white. Like they were handing out popsicles or something.

“But you’re not white.” I corrected. “You’re Asian-American.”

“Like Arjun?”

“No, he’s from India. Your mom is half Japanese.”

He quizzed me. “India and Japan are both Asia?”

“Yeah… I think?” Before he could test more of my geography knowledge, I added “You’re technically Japanese American.”

“But how can I be Japanese, Dad? You’re not Japanese.“ He paused for emphasis. “You’re like… pink!”

I wondered whether or not I should be offended. He continued his assessment, turning toward Audrey and saying,

“I bet I would be a lot darker if mom had married another Asian.”

To which my seven-year-old daughter replied,

“True. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh because it’s funny, or cry because it’s true. Here I was, a white dad, trying to explain the construct of race to my Asian-American kids, and they couldn’t care less about the subject. And all because of a pre-filled bubble on a standardized test. The whole episode had me wondering:

Why do we even ask the race question any more?

From an accountability standpoint, I understand why we need to know a person’s race. The Civil Rights Act was a beautiful piece of legislation. It was one of those rare times in our nation’s history when capitalism took a back seat to doing the right thing. Imagine if you owned a lunch counter in Mississippi in 1962.   Serving “colored people” might hurt your business. So the Federal government thankfully stepped in and made it illegal to discriminate based on sex, race, color, religion, or national origin. And today, capturing demographic information helps us see if particular groups of people are being denied jobs, loans, or opportunities based on the color of their skin.

It’s an accountability thing. So we count.

But not very well.

Consider a recent leadership meeting my wife attended at our church. The team was reviewing the demographics of our congregation to see if we mirrored the community where we live.   Gabby pointed to the document and noted,

“This says there are no Asians in our church.”

“That’s right,” someone offered.

She raised her hand, “Ummm… we should have at least one. Right?”

*insert awkward silence*

To be fair, my wife is like an optical illusion.  She can look Asian, Hispanic, or Caucasian depending on whether we’re eating at Pei Wei, El Chico, or Applebees.

Gabby filled the void by asking, “How do we determine this information? Do we just look at people and take a guess?”

That’s when someone chimed in and said what everyone was thinking,

“We definitely shouldn’t be guessing.”

Again, laugh because it’s funny, and cry because it’s true. All of us adults are trying hard to get it right, but still making mistakes.  There is a genuine intent to honor the experiences of others, and race plays a part.  At the same time, I’m finding that my own kids seem to be oblivious to their own race, and we’ve told them dozens of times. It’s like they have racial amenesia or something. Or maybe they’re allergic to labels.

If so, they’re not the only ones.

In the most recent US Census, “Some Other Race” was the third largest racial category chosen. And it’s not for lack of options. The form allows people to select between White, Black, African American, Negro, Hispanic, Latino, Cuban, Puerto Rican, Spanish, American Indian, Alaska Native, Asian Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Guamanian, Samoan, Chamoro, Filipino, Hawaiian, or Pacific Islander.

Yet “Some Other Race” was number three.

This has the Census Bureau confounded. They are trying mightily to fix this problem to assure people accurately categorize themselves. They’re even working with the US Office of Management and Budget to adjust the “official” race categories. I know it’s silly to imagine, but yes, there are people whose job it is to determine what races are “official” in America. And it’s rather arbitrary, like trying to determine how many squares a roll of toilet paper should have, or what name to give the latest nail polish color at the Clinique counter. Looking at a brief history of how these decisions were made in the past, I was simultaneously amused, confused, and outraged.

The funny thing is, we’ve been doing all of this counting, since 1790, and every decade the number of boxes grows ever larger, with no end in sight. In fact, Census Bureau is testing a question for the 2020 form that adds a space beneath each racial and ethnic category so each person can write in his or her own description.

Yes. A fill-in-the-blank census.

As crazy as it sounds, it is probably the most accurate measure we could have. While it’s human nature to want to put people into boxes to make sense of the world, humans themselves resist being placed into boxes. I’m not sure why this is. Maybe it’s because our egos don’t like being pigeon-holed. Or maybe it’s because the Constitution says that we’re all created equal, and labeling groups of people only encourages stereotyping and generalizations.

Or maybe it’s because God never intended it to be that way.

I know I am a naïve idealist given the current state of race relations in our country, but I believe there’s some truth in the words of Roger Rosenblatt, who, at the turn of the millennium wrote this in his Letter To The Year 2100,

“U.S. immigration officials recently predicted that by 2050 (50 years ago for you), nearly half the country’s population will be nonwhite. There are more interracial marriages every year. I like to picture you all as a nice, rich shade of beige.”

It sounds nice, doesn’t it? Rosenblatt is on to something here. Maybe the solution to our problems isn’t ever more boxes to check on a census form, church register, or standardized test. Maybe what we’re truly after is something completely different. Think about it…

If we no longer asked the question, would division no longer matter?

It’s worth considering. And worth an investment of prayer and hope. That Rosenblatt’s words would somehow come true. All of us checking a single box. The human race. Created equal and treated as such. Seven billion unique expressions of the image of God.

Loving each other into oneness.

* Enjoy this post?  For more, just preorder Scott’s book about his family’s Year Without A Purchase on Barnes & Noble or Amazon launching August 4th from WJK Press. And, to see more posts like this, submit your email at the upper right to receive new blogs hot n fresh to your inbox.  Or, Like us on Facebook.  Cheers!


Filed under Uncategorized