Confession: I didn’t actually choose most of my kids’ names. It was a precedent set right away, in my first pregnancy. I went to bat for the name Mary Sarah. My husband was intent on Mary Hannah.
He won.
Confession: I didn’t actually choose most of my kids’ names. It was a precedent set right away, in my first pregnancy. I went to bat for the name Mary Sarah. My husband was intent on Mary Hannah.
He won.
Ever had a pumpkin field you’re not sure what to do with?
The season is over. All the pumpkins have been brought in and sold. The brush is slowly moving back into the plot you evicted it from in the spring.
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.
This fall, I hit an uncomfortable, inevitable milestone: for the first time in our marriage (barring the gap of our own making), our baby is two and a half years old, and there’s no little brother or sister already in my arms or waiting to make an appearance.
Tickets have been purchased, plans are being finalized. In a few days, Christopher will head back to Asia to do the thing for which he was created.
I’ve seen this man in several career streams throughout our marriage. But his calling as a missionary is the only one I can point to as being the one that fits like home. It’s also the one that, more often than not, takes him the farthest from me.
I know that as parents we’re not ultimately responsible for whether our children choose to follow Christ. I know that as they grow up, their relationship with God is just that—it’s theirs.
But I do believe that as parents, we are called to create an environment that makes the choice of following the Lord so much easier.
“Mom, can you do something with me tonight?”
Yesterday, I stumbled upon a blog post that literally made me laugh out loud. The author, a former teacher, shared her views on the shortcomings of homeschooling. Not academically, mind you (“most of them were at or above their designated grades as far as proficiency”), but in terms of… wait for it… socialization.
Exhale.
All those clichès? They’re true.
I have no idea where the time went.
It was too fast.
And no, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
(with apologies to Robert Frost)
Two separate paths diverged in life,
And I knew I could only take one
Homeschooling mother and also wife—
A choice not bereft of trial and strife—
Or a career where money was won;