Spring on our farm means three things: rain, mud, and fog. The rain and the mud are necessary evils. The fog? A fantastical delight for all of us.
Links may direct to affiliate sites. Purchases made through these links support our family’s work in spreading the Gospel to unreached areas.
Nearly every homeschooling mother I have ever met has admitted that February is her nemesis. Oh, plenty of times we stumble around trying to find the swing of January after the blessed break that is December. And yes, there’s the long, slow march that is April. But February? February pulls us under and leaves us slogging through not just the gloomy muck of rain and cold outside our windows, but the tiresome repetition of yet another math lesson, “can you please spell that word again?” and “no, for the last time, we are not done with school for the day!”
When my wife was 11 years old, she went with her Papaw to the Dodge dealership as he prepared to buy a new truck.
He walked out with the keys to a 1987 Dodge Power Ram 250, silver grey with burgundy interior, the color scheme picked by his granddaughter. She was tickled to have played a part.
I don’t know about you, but I knock on God’s door multiple times a day asking for His show of favor. Patience, provision, peace, understanding, wisdom, endurance, empathy, compassion, strength— I need it all, and I approach the throne of God unabashedly, requesting this and more for myself and for my loved ones.
On Christmas Eve, the unthinkable happened. Dad had just left on a last minute trip, while Mom and I began a quick tidy of the house before my grandma and great-aunt arrived for a holiday meal. All was well. We had the soup in the roaster, desserts in the fridge and the kids were playing quietly in their room with Legos. It was a snapshot of Christmas cheer fit for Currier and Ives, modern edition. Until…disaster struck.
As a parent, I fret over the small stuff. Oh, I invest plenty of hours praying over the major details. But I major in the minors, as they say. I police the perimeters, knowing that prayer, my attentiveness, and a whopping dollop of grace goes a very long way indeed in cultivating spirits that eagerly desire to live and serve the Lord, and others. “It’s not the eruption,” I tell myself often, “It’s the tremors signaling the build-up.”
One of the greatest things about traveling regularly to the same places is seeing the familiar faces.
We talk a lot about legacy at my house. Not so much the financial concept of legacy, but the handing down of a strong Christian belief to the next generation.
It’s only Wednesday, but already it’s been a tough week for Phineas. Come to think of it, last week wasn’t so great either.
It feels like everywhere he turns lately, he’s pushing the limits, and not necessarily in a Chuck Yeager “I’m gonna break the sound barrier” kind of way. He’s been obstinate, disobedient, just down right naughty. Continue reading
There have been exactly seven times in my life that I have wholeheartedly embraced the pain God put in my path. The other million and a half instances of hurt, I have kicked and fought and wrestled under the weight until finally, the ache came to an end.