Ryan offered this letter to our church at the end of 2021. I am sharing it with you because he is better at words these days than I am.
What I lack in a history of sexual sin I make up for in a thousand other ways, as named here. I am greatly in need of grace.
I had a lovely little idea that February would be the perfect month to focus on intimacy, and then I inherited a newborn baby.
I check on the children, sleeping in their beds. I pull back my covers and remember something I forgot downstairs, so I go do that, too.
You know deep in your bones that what he is thinking or doing or feeling or chasing is going to land him in deep guano sooner or later.
This griddle. Hm. It has seen better days, and no wonder. It’s one of our wedding gifts, from seventeen years ago today.
Both of my last two blog posts are true pictures of my family. There is great pain and great beauty side by side in my home.
We have been walking through difficult things this summer. His words feel redemptive, protective, perfect to me.
Prepared with love for him at dinner’s end, an unannounced surprise made carefully into a luscious circle of fresh crimped crust…
I find myself loving what we make: things that mean something to me. Or sometimes, distressed letters from Walmart. Yeah, that works.