Andrée Seu Peterson

Andrée is the author of three books: Won't Let You Go Unless You Bless Me, Normal Kingdom Business, and We Shall Have Spring Again.

Krieg Barrie

Letter from camp

Faith & Inspiration | All times are the right times to talk about Christ
by Andrée Seu Peterson
Posted 9/02/16, 01:00 am

A letter from my 11-year-old granddaughter in week six of summer camp said, in part: “Please pray for my friend, her sister died and she had to leave camp. They gave her the wrong shot when she went to China.” Death is obscene.

In summer’s beginning I had wanted to write to my granddaughter about lofty matters of her soul’s salvation but had held back, reasoning to myself that solemn words are not effective in lighthearted settings. Better to wait for an appropriate time.

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Household conduct

Faith & Inspiration | Showing love and courtesy to those closest to us
by Andrée Seu Peterson
Posted 8/30/16, 10:32 am

Ours is a household of four: my husband, my father, my father-in-law, and me. People better at math will know the algorithm for the number of relationships this concatenation generates.

There is the one between me and my husband, the one between me and my father, and between me and my father-in-law. But then you must also draw lines connecting each person with each other, and consider their separate dynamics. And if you really want to be thorough, you must note the various combinations made when any three of us are here and the fourth member is away.

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Question deficit syndrome

Faith & Inspiration | Bless someone’s socks off with a thoughtful inquiry today
by Andrée Seu Peterson
Posted 8/25/16, 12:43 pm

It was a breezy Rhode Island–like summer day here in Pennsylvania, so I hung out the laundered bedsheets to trap that fresh-air smell inside. Lacking a proper clothesline, I made use of the porch railing and upper story windows.

It brought back memories of my mother standing outside by her wicker basket of washing on breezy mornings like this, reeling out the pulley-rigged rope a foot or two at a time, pinching shirts and trousers to it with the wooden clothespins till the whole affair looked like a gay parade of headless dancers.

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