Our words of dedication at Highland on October 29, 2017
On November 21 of last year, we welcomed our third boy. We brought him home to our sabbatical home nestled among the North Carolina pines, we nourished him among the Blue Ridge mountains, and now we have brought him here into this beloved sanctuary where we ask that you join us in being good stewards of the life that God has given to us.
To the Brothers in Our Home,
Your dad and I sit in a special spot. We get to be with you, observe you, and guide you for these years that you will not remember perfectly but will be affected by greatly. As I watched you play the other day, I couldn’t help but want your future selves to be able to see these present moments as we see them.
Life is about to change. A new baby brother is due in a few months. Older brother begins kindergarten in a few weeks. Your world is expanding. The insular world of brotherhood is about to be renovated for a whole new wing that includes another brother, as well as wider relational and cultural influence upon you all.
On the eve of this change, I want to make sure to remember for you how important your brotherhood has been. Continue reading
Hey brother. Hey brother. Hey brother.
Wherever our two brothers roam, these words show up. Spoken from the mouth of the oldest, they are words meant to unite them upon observation of an interesting thing or participation in a daring act. They are the words meant to allow the oldest the joy of inviting another to take part in shared delight. They are the words our youngest have heard from day one as the main words of orientation around this new and foreign world before him.
They usually come in repetitions of five or more because the youngest either hears white noise due to their regularity or simply to attest to the power of the youngest’s focus on what is before him. But eventually they catch his attention (spoken right into his ear with oldest waving arms before his face) and upon registering the invitation, the two brothers become one being. Continue reading
My two boys,
A spring Saturday with Daddy on call on Louisville’s most accident-prone days, I knew it was a day for the three of us. I indulged myself with a 6:45 am alarm. You slept in enough for coffee to be made, eggs to be scrambled, and my eyes to open enough to greet the day happy at its arrival. I vowed that this Saturday, I would try to truly honor a Sabbath. I would not attempt to accomplish anything other than be with the two of you.
This is not to say being your mother is a restful task. You failed at sharing within moments of playing together and you squealed when things didn’t go your way. As I make my way through this journey with you as your mother, I give of myself, my personhood and my body, my daily tasks and my daily worries as means to grant you life, sustain that life within you, and nourish its growth.
Thrashing around, their little bodies twist and turn. Couch cushions lay on a heap in the floor – collateral damage from brothers wrestling. I’m in the thick of it, tickling belies and shielding my face from injury. It is raucous and joy-filled. It is a moment of brothers let loose to be brothers… living this life together that is messy and dangerous and beautiful.
It is love on the edge.
pause.give.thanks 