Dear Rose Park,

I’d imagine many of you have been watching the news lately. If you’re anything like me, this typically happens in the morning while drinking a cup of coffee and munching on a piece of toast. Like clockwork, the Waterstone children are awake at 6:30am almost every day. Winnie has her morning bottle and Simon will snack on cheerios as the news cycles on our television. A few days ago, Simon saw someone getting hurt on the news while a fire was burning in the background and the sounds of sirens filled the air. He looked at me with curiosity in his eyes and said, “what’s happening Daddy?” I stood there and simply said, “I don’t know.”

Dear Rose Park,

Six days ago I spread top-soil all over my backyard. Five days ago I tossed grass seed all over the top-soil. Every day since then I’ve been watering the soil just as the bag of seed instructed me. After checking every single day since I spread the seed, I saw the tips of new grass coming through the soil yesterday morning. It’s the simple things in life that bring such great pleasure.

Dear Rose Park,

I can remember one of my most favorite parts about going to the mall or the airport as a kid was getting to ride on the escalator. Don’t get me wrong, walking up stairs or hopping into the elevator is just as useful, but there was something so fun about watching the steps move as you held onto the handrail and ascended to the next floor. We don’t typically use the word ‘ascend’ in today’s language, but the concept of ascension is very important to the Christian faith; in fact, this coming Sunday is Ascension Sunday.

Dear Rose Park,

I grew up at Calvary Reformed Church on 8th Street in Holland Heights. Calvary served as the fertile soil for my faith to grow. I went to the Wednesday night ministry called “Kid’s Club”, I was a part of the middle school and then high school youth group, I participated in multiple mission trips over the years, and I was even ordained in Calvary’s sanctuary just after graduating from seminary. Calvary will always have a special place in my heart, but it also has a special place on my wrist.

Dear Rose Park,

A few days ago I heard an interesting conversation on the radio. It essentially boiled down to this: we’ve all heard of helicopter parents (a parent who hovers over their children making sure nothing bad could ever happen), but the host of this radio show was talking to a family therapist who introduced a new-term called the snowplow parent. Have you heard of this? It refers to when a parent pushes every struggle out of the way (like a snowplow) in order to make the road for their children stress-free, pain-free, and challenge-free.

Dear Rose Park,

During this isolating time our routines and schedules have been interrupted. A new sense of normal is setting in; parents are now becoming stay-at-home teachers, medical professionals are living in RV’s to keep their loved ones safe, and pastors are becoming talking-heads on the computer screen. This is an unprecedented time and we’re doing our best to keep a sense of normalcy, but we all know something is different and life has drastically changed.

Dear Rose Park,

Some of you were witnesses, some of you heard it, others saw the aftermath. Immediately following worship this past Sunday morning, Simon was running when he tripped and hit his head against the brick wall of our sanctuary. The only thing that was faster than his tears was the swelling. Simon had a pretty good goose-egg on his head all day Sunday, but even after the swelling came down we still talk about our ‘owie.’

Dear Rose Park,

I haven’t been roller skating in years. The last time I went was probably in college with a bunch of friends. I remember waking up the next morning with a bruised tailbone and a humbled ego. Besides the annual trip to the roller rink in elementary school, roller skating wasn’t something I did a lot growing up, but tonight I’ll do my best to lace up a well worn pair of roller skates and stay on my feet at the GEMS roller skating party.