Teaching the truth

“You shall teach them diligently to your sons.” ~ Deuteronomy 6:7a

I don’t know about you, but I think raising sons is sometimes harder than raising daughters. I’ve always felt like I must offer instruction to my daughters about what it takes to be a man, a husband, a father, a head of household leader because they don’t know what it means to be any of these things. God made them girls who by His grace and blessing will grow to be women. They’ll never be men, so I need to tell them what to expect and give them a strong example followed by words of wisdom.

For the boys, it just seems like these things ought to be innate within them and so it’s not so much for me to teach them as to let them grow, guiding them every once in awhile by example.

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Telling stories

Taking the child by the hand, He said to her, “Talitha kum!” (which translated means, “Little girl, I say to you, get up!”). ~ Mark 5:41

Stories. In my house, we tell stories. My children love to hear stories of when they were young, when my wife and I were young, of brothers and sisters and relatives, of birthdays and holidays.

Many stories we’ve told before, and sometimes I wonder if I actually have any stories left to tell. But it never really seems to matter because they love to hear them over and over again, and as we all grow older there will be new ones to share.

There’s power in a story. It’s more than just history. It’s a chance to take a person back to a moment in time when something happened that left an indelible mark upon your heart. Some stories are sad, some funny, some a joy to tell again and again. And some will change your life if you let them.

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Four cute kids and some goo

We received a free product for the purpose of writing this review. Our family only reviews items that we actually find valuable and are able to be 100% honest about regarding our experience. We received no monetary compensation for our opinion. Links contained in this post may direct to affiliate sites.

We had the chance to sit down, mix some colors, and mash some goo. What happens next probably won’t blow your mind, but yeah, it was pretty awesome.

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Because of love

It was there, set carefully between the gift bags. A handful of assorted, beloved wooden nuts and bolts. One treasured Nepali coin. And a stack of homemade cards in brightly colored envelopes. Proof of their love.

Saturday had been a flurry of drawing, a whirlwind of, “b-I-r-th-d-ay?” and “Does this say, ‘Jack,’?” “What? It’s tomorrow? Can I make him a present?” Now here it was Sunday morning, and they were all pressing in, eager to see his reaction, itching for their turn to be twirled and bounced during the required birthday dance.

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The Amazing Dr. Ransom’s Bestiary of Adorable Fallacies {review + giveaway}

We received a free product for the purpose of writing this review. Our family only reviews items that we actually find valuable and are able to be 100% honest about regarding our experience. We received no monetary compensation for our opinion. Links contained in this post may direct to affiliate sites.

It’s a shame that the idea of teaching logic– and I’m talking actual logic here, not “critical thinking”– has fallen out of vogue in modern education. Take a casual glance at media outlets and social platforms and you’ll be greeted with dozens of situations crying out for the application of some very elementary-level rebuttals and yet … there are so few people with the know-how to identify what’s wrong with the group think being offered up around the world today.

It’s a little depressing out there, folks.
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Remember when…

I’m riding in the back seat of a friend’s Mitsubishi when Alan Jackson’s “Remember When,” comes on the radio.

And I want to chuckle because the friends I’m with are Lahu, a hill tribe in Southeast Asia, and we’re driving to a remote village in Myanmar.
But my friends are singing away to a song they fully expect I should know because after all, isn’t Alan Jackson American? Well, sure, I assure them, but I don’t listen to country music.

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Keep the small things big

A friend, whose oldest child is inching towards kindergarten, asked me recently what advice I had to offer. As a member of the Mom With Mileage Club, I guess she assumes I have a tiny taste of the hindsight that comes with parenting through several stages. I remember well clinging to the words of wisdom offered up by just about anyone in those earlier days of trying to discern just what on earth I was supposed to do with and for this family in my care.

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Turning the demons into salt and light

Early last week, as we were pulling up to a small church under construction in northern Myanmar, I was asked to speak to the believers, mostly of Shan heritage.

I quickly began to pray for the right words to share. The man I’ve been traveling with suggested my talk (“Take up to an hour if you want,” he said) focus on God’s sovereignty over demons, an issue the Shan struggle with thanks to local village practices.

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2 a.m., Thailand

It’s 2 a.m., and I can’t sleep. Not surprising, really, figuring it’s my first night back in Thailand in about five years.
I’m jet-lagged (20-plus hours in planes), dehydrated (highs here in Thailand and Myanmar are low 100s), and I miss my family (I’m here, and they’re not).

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