Moving Day

Last weekend we moved into our new house. Since there are boxes everywhere that need to be unpacked -- plus my bicycle is calling as spring has finally arrived -- I'll keep this short. First, we're grateful for the friends who helped, including Stephen W., John W., Brian D., and Jake A., as well as…

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Moving on up to the west side

It's hard to believe we've lived over six years here in this small rural Ohio town. A rented house, one we haven't ever really made a home, as evidenced by the lack of pictures on the walls. But it's finally time to move, at least in a few months.The house is owned by a family…

Still Searching

This is the continuation of a series of posts:My Three DadsFirst Conversation in 30 YearsDay at the BeachI've been wanting to close this short series, but I've been working on a number of projects and my bike keeps beckoning me to enjoy the summer weather. I could always write in the winter months. This week…

My Talk at Birthright

A few months ago, a lady at my church asked if I'd be willing to speak at an annual dinner/fundraiser for Birthright, which is a ministry that anonymously serves pregnant women -- and those who think they might be. She wasn't sure why she felt led by God to ask me, but she chose to…

Nuttin' for Christmas

Last week we received in the mail a catalog that is to our girls like the Sears catalog was to me when I was a kid. Remember that big catalog and the pages and pages of toys? Like Ralphie with his Red Rider, I’d take a Sharpie and circle everything I wanted from Santa, which…

Serving Suggested: Thoughts on Dessert Cereal

In her book on writing, Anne Lamott recommends for all rookie writers to begin with childhood, specifically what school lunch was like. Write everything you can remember, she says, about school lunch. What you ate, what others ate, what you and they traded for. Everything. I suppose, as she recommends, I could begin here, and…

There’s Still Bubbles

Micah and I were in a public restroom a couple weeks ago. I was trying to help him wash his hands, which proved to be difficult due to the height of the sink -- we use a stool at home -- and the faucet was one of those push-on varieties, the kind that you have to press every couple of seconds. I had to keep telling him that, no, we weren't done yet: "I still see bubbles. Let's get all the bubbles off."