Remembering Goliath
One night in May several years ago, my five-year-old made a declaration while we were eating dinner. “Mom,” he said, “on Monday, we need to read the story of David and Goliath.” I
One night in May several years ago, my five-year-old made a declaration while we were eating dinner. “Mom,” he said, “on Monday, we need to read the story of David and Goliath.” I
When our oldest child transitioned to middle school three years ago, it was the height of the pandemic. Decisions were made for us, not by us.
If you are a western Christian, Saint Monica might be the second most famous Christian mother you can name, after Our Lady.
In the work of raising two children to live their lives as followers of Jesus, we have entered the important albeit irritating phase of teen angst, rejection, and challenge.
Mark’s evangelism took fierce courage to go beyond his boundaries, into the unknown, to the unseen, sharing news he knew was urgent, life-sustaining, and fortifying.
Our daughter came into the world with a large head, a conspicuous tuft of bright red hair, and a deep stubborn streak which clearly has no relation to her biological parentage.
As our daughters grow, we have engaged in many conversations around our family values.
I bet there is a “strong one” in your family: the rock on whom the rest of your family can depend.