Sometimes we pay for things that are free - but you have to have self-discipline to receive them. 

Cecilia isn’t really into things, which makes holidays hard to shop for. She loves experiences. So for Valentine’s Day, I rented a tiny house for one night so we could get away together.

We were driving north to Camp Barakel, where my dad was going to speak for a week of camp.

“Guys,” my dad said, “when we get up north, I’m going to take you to a cool spot I found. It’s a coffee place called Mac’s Coffee Shop.”

One of the best ways to gain attention is controversy. People care deeply, and when they care, they speak. And when they speak, others respond. It spreads quickly.

Last night we were praying as a family, and I asked one of my children what they wanted to pray about. They responded, “Nothing.”

I don’t like to force my children to pray. I don’t want them to grow up hating prayer. For the same reason, I don’t demand they attend every extracurricular church activity. I want them to cherish church and remember Sunday mornings filled with joy.

It's a brand-new year, and with it come resolutions. The firm decision to do or not to do something. A choice. A quick scroll through social media will show you lots of these firm decisions. Go to the gym, lose weight, save for something, eat differently, be a better parent, move away from the snow, get that job you have always dreamed of, quit that job you used to dream of. 

I was canoeing the Pine River in the Manistee National Forest with my dad and some men from the church. We camped in a campground and froze all night. Just as the sun was beginning to rise and I was finally getting warm, a deacon rolled over on his keys and set off his car alarm. We gave up on sleep and made breakfast.

A few months ago, the number of people coming to church was a bit higher. Someone stopped me in the lobby and said, "Isn’t this great?" Yes, I said, but it will go the other way at some point.

Last summer I went golfing with Ed Allen at Oak Lane in Webberville. It was rough the first couple of outings. If you never forget how to ride a bike, you never remember how to swing a golf club. Miss-hits and whiffs were common. 

When I was young, there was a sledding hill behind my home. My mom would bundle us up, and my dad would drag the toboggan to the top. He’d pile five of us on, give us a good push, then jump on the back.

I got my Christmas tree at a driving range. No one wants to hit golf balls in the snow, so they lease a corner of the lot to a Christmas Tree man. 
The man approached me. Is there something I can help you find? He said. 

I write from my bedroom tonight. The kids are playing downstairs and their voices are somewhere between having fun and about to hurt each other.

A new child arrived in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas, in moments like these, thanksgiving comes easy. Early on Sunday, Cecilia delivered Ouray (you-ray) Lee—both safe and healthy. Every time we’ve gone into childbirth, I’ve asked God for only two things: “safe mom, safe baby,” and the Lord gave more than I asked—typical.

Lately, we've had trouble getting Routt to sleep in his own room. I started to wonder if maybe we had spoiled him by letting him sleep in ours for too long.

Last night, I sat just outside his bedroom as he stared into the darkness.
“Dad,” he whispered, “look!”