How to handle a trans child joining your son’s Boy Scout troop.

Being a parent is hard. There are so many conversations we have to have, so many things that it’s up to us to explain. Baylor asked me who made God at TWO YEARS OLD.

That was a fun car ride. 

Since there’s a lot of confusion and these are such tricky and treacherous waters, I just thought I’d try to offer a few steps to walk you through handling a transgender boy in your son’s troop, should that day come.

1. Find out that kid’s name. QUICKLY Y’ALL DO IT.

2. Take your child up to this child after learning his name and say, “(Your child’s name here), this is (other child’s name here). He’s in your troop now.”

3. Continue your regularly programmed scoutsing. 

4. No, really. That’s probably it. Kids are way cooler than adults, so if you’re cool, your kid will be extra cool. Cooler than cool*. If for some reason it becomes a true struggle, a super simple explanation (one that doesn’t in any way have to include the discussion of private parts) is usually enough to make most kids happy. Don’t worry about “making them think they can just change too”- trust me, it doesn’t work that way.

Bonus step: Smile and say hi to the person who brought the new kiddo because they are probably a bit on edge. It’s never fun being the new parent on the block.

And that’s it! You made it. Pick up your “decent human being” badge** on the way out!

*Ice cold.

**I lied about the badges. I’m sorry. It was creative license. Or something. If you’re really upset I’ll make you one. But it’ll be paper and you won’t love it. 

Honey & Vinegar


Pleasant words are a honeycomb, Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.  Proverbs 16:24

A few posts back, I asked with sincerity if our country would be okay after an election season that was…stranger than fiction.

The story so far, not a great one. We are a severely divided, aggressively torn nation. It honestly feels like navigating an entirely new place some days.  Continue reading

Palms, Postures, and Parting Ways

I have held many things in my hands, and have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess. – Martin Luther

A couple of years ago at an If:Local at our then-new church, Shelley Giglio taught me something new via livestream: open your hands during prayer. Palms up. Be expectant in your time with God; be receptive. Believe the promises.

It felt unnatural at first; childlike and vulnerable. But then I saw how a posture could change the way I entered that time, and it became part of me.

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Life of E

E has been on the trampoline for two hours with her sister today. They run and flip and Jo tosses her onto the springy surface. She still marvels at her own relatively new coordination- they may take after their mama there. “Look how high I can jump TODAY!” is a daily request that involves me holding my hand high, then slightly higher, and that sweet, soft little head bouncing up against my palm.  Continue reading

Do you still like me?

E is getting older, as kids do. 4 is fast approaching, and she’s sliding into that home stretch with all the inquisitiveness you’d expect of this age. E is a noticer. You may not even notice that she’s noticed until it gets brought up later, but she does. This is wonderful and brilliant and makes for the best conversations. We took Branden’s phone last night and let her use Google Voice and ask questions. It was pure delight. We now know why the moon looks orange sometimes, among other things.


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First off, I just want to say thank you and wow to all the support and love and outreach that the blog has been getting. It’s been overwhelming. There have been questions, as expected and welcomed. I’m happy to chat, to the best of my ability, with anyone who genuinely wants to learn and isn’t just looking to argue.

Sometimes, however, you may not get what you’re looking for. Truth is…I don’t have many answers, and probably as many questions remaining as you have.  Continue reading