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An Open Letter to My Kids – I Fired the Housekeeper
Dear Kiddos, It was your dad’s idea. He felt like I needed a helper because we started a ministry to college freshmen. For nine months at a time. In Mexico. You didn’t know this when you cuties were up thrice a night, attempting tricks on rusty bars, absorbing a second language, taking in avocados, trying to find a friend, and learning to walk, but those students in our ministry required hours and hours of our time. And so did you. In our younger years your dad repeatedly joked about moving to Mexico, always ending it with the promise of a housekeeper. Didn’t sound like much of a deal to me; I…
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We’re All Doing It — Some More Often Than Others
On the super fun days I get to fill my washer with a hose. I know—you’re jealous. All I need is one helper, two walkie talkies, and we’re off like a fireman and a kiddie pool. I spin and pull the dial that usually signals a water drop, and yank the hose across the floor. I prop it far enough down in the drum so it doesn’t flip back out (only takes once to learn such lessons), and radio the chosen child. “Okay… let it rip!” “Ten-four… here it comes.” “Thanks, buddy.” “You’re welcome.” I’m not sure which part he enjoys more: the walkie talkie or feeling needed. I add…
