On Mother’s Day last Sunday my wife and I, along with our two daughters, went to hear our friend Danielle preach at another church in Silverton. It was Danielle’s first sermon. Instead of standing behind a lectern she sat onstage in a comfortable chair she had brought from home. Candles flickered on a table next to her. Danielle said these domestic props were there for her own sake, but they made the rest of us feel more at home too as she spoke casually, confidently, and with humor and real insight, about what being a mother has taught her about living in community. It was great.
I prayed for years that I would someday get to be the father of daughters. God’s answers to those prayers are rambunctious, hilarious, creative, stubborn, exhausting, frustrating, and wonderful, and they are currently three and nine years old. A dad is one of the best things I get to be. But parenting is wild and messy. (We were off-script by Day Two.) Parenting involves more poop and vomit and weird rashes than I expected, and those are nothing compared to the heartache, confusion, exasperation, sleepless nights, and regrets.
And we haven’t even hit the teenage years.… Read the rest