It’s amazing — but not surprising — how much birthdays change as you get older. Continue reading
I went out this morning to check the garden boxes and quickly noticed that what is supposed to be lettuce is now overrun with weeds. I don’t think our lettuce is going to make it.
Once upon a time, all of our kids were little. They were little and cute and man, high school seemed really far away.
And then we had one teen, then two, then three, and …
I’m not quite sure why or when I started dumping my spare change in a small tin canister that once held a Christmas gift for my wife. Continue reading
I never thought my kids would stay little forever; never really wanted them to. I’ve always, from the beginning, loved the unfolding that brings them closer, each day, to the adult that they will eventually become. But in the moment, I revel in the person in front of me: big, small, in between.
Christmas came, and went, and left behind some truly awesome games.
We love games. I can’t think of a recent day when some assortment of family members wasn’t playing a game. UNO. Uncle Wiggily. Sorry! Like books, games are a constant here.
Back when we started this website, our focus was fairly clear: we were called to provide encouragement to families taking the road less travelled. For two years now, we’ve shared our path, hoping that our transparency in regards to our family’s walk would glorify God. Over the past 24 months, we’ve been on both sides of the learning curve, cataloging our ups and downs and gleaning wisdom from those of you who have shared your own journeys with us.
I knew it would come, knew she would say it before her time in Idaho was up:
“I might stay, Momma. I hear God saying something, but I’m not sure what it is yet. Maybe it’s stay.”
You may have asked yourself what the sound of a mother’s heart simultaneously breaking and singing sounds like. Do yourself a favor–try not to find out.
Once upon a time, a mother pushed her happy, giggling five month-old baby onto an elevator in a new-to-her stroller. The baby was kind of adorable, and–as I’ve already said–giggling like mad, so it was no surprise at all that he drew the attention of the smiling woman in medical scrubs who had been doing the job of pressing the buttons on the control panel.
“He’s so cute! Your first boy?” asked the woman.
“No,” answered the mother. “My sixth, actually.”
“Six boys? For real? I couldn’t do that. No way.”
“God knew how much I like raising boys,” the mother replied, happy that for once she had a decent answer real time, rather than in the moments when she mulled over the conversation post-mortem as she was falling asleep, “so He gave me a heaping helping.”
You think that’s it, don’t you? You’re saying to yourself–“This is a post about how people are always bashing on little boys.” Well, it could be. But it isn’t.
In the economy of a large family, a 13 year-old brother is just short of legend.
He has knives and multipurpose tools and a host of other blades hanging from his belt and hidden in his pockets.
His legs are so long he can leap across the creek without getting his feet wet.
He can carve spears and string bows.
His arms are so strong he can rescue small children from bee stings and ant bites.