Dear Foster Mama...

As it says in Proverbs 31, we rise to bless you. It’s one of the deep, aching longings of your heart, to hear those words rather than the noise of the chaotic juggle you navigate within this world of foster care.

It’s the answer to your shadows of wondering if you really did hear your Heavenly Father’s voice to follow down this twisted, jumbled path…to the creeping doubts that surface when she screams she hates you because you’re not her mama, when you pack the bag for another weekly visit and feel your throat lurch inside of you, when you hold the one you’ve held since birth for the last time.

We bless you.

You are different than when you began this pilgrimage, when you set off amongst the strange looks and concerning questions. You’re more tender, deeper…more sober.

And you know you are waltzing through one of the most unnatural dances possible. You trip, stumble and often feel there is no one to lead you, spin you...to search your eyes and see the caverns that now trace deep within your heart and cause the most sporadic tears to surface.

But He is leading you, and as He spins you He peers deeply into your soul and whispers with delight that your tears are beautiful because He knows they are shed from your altar of sacrifice, from the groaning utters you allow to escape when you’re on your battered knees of war. Because you know that this calling is not simply one to foster care or a system, but a commitment to carry the children placed in your care before the throne of grace with confidence for the rest of their lives.

Of all the mamas in the world, He invited you into this dance, with this child, with this family, with this worker.

And so when you’ve tripped and fallen once again, you rise ever more humbly, ever more boldly to stand and say yes again, to hope again, to love again, to grieve the immense losses that enter your home again.

You are a beautifully broken mother, and in the spaces where you feel most shattered, the world looks in and sees your Redeemer most vibrantly.

And together we bless Him.

And cry out with you as it says in Isaiah 54:13, “All your children will be taught by the Lord and great will be their peace.”

You are a beautiful mother. Ever lifting you before our Savior,

On 12 Years of Marriage...

Catie,

We have officially completed twelve years of marriage.  Wow.  I never in a million dreams would have imagined us here.  If I had to describe what I thought our life would be at the end of year twelve it would be comfortable.  I imagined our kids going to a small private school, us involved with church activities and being able to play and rest when we please.  We would be in love and plan big vacations and how we can help our sons be the best athletes, musicians, and students that we could.

I think if that were our life, it would indeed be comfortable, but, for us, it would be like a living corpse.  We would be going through the motions without any conviction or real purpose.  Orphan care has become our purpose in God’s Kingdom.  We are more alive and our marriage is more alive than it has ever been.

I never thought that by suggesting we foster kids that it would have such an impact on us.  To me it was a means to an end. Adoption.  I had no visions of growing our family and being involved in so many different facets of this culture (children, birth families, DHR, etc.).  Our family is so big and different.  It’s an eclectic group of individuals, and I love them dearly.

I never planned on this being something that would change you so much.  You’ve become this beautiful picture of what it means to take God’s heart and make it tangible.  I can see Christ by your desires and actions.  I’m so in love what who you are becoming.

This past year saw some major things take place.  We said goodbye to Baby J, Big Sis, and Little Sis, and hello to Cinderella, Buster B, Peppermint Patty, and KBug.  We went from 6 to 7 in the house.  We were a part of girls’ mom saying goodbye to her son.  We deepened our relationship with J's grandmom.  We started caring for the Boy and the Girl, whom we love so much...and we survived baseball season.

Our life is insane and unpredictable, and sometimes I grow weary of the lack of comfort, but without a doubt I wouldn’t change it.  This is where we’re meant to minister, and I’m so thankful that I’m married to a dreamer who doesn’t want to settle.  You push me in areas to be more of a man of God and I’m thankful for it.  I’m more in love with you now because of our choice to foster than I would have been if my plans for comfort would have come to fruition.  I know this to be true.

I love you with all my heart.  Happy Anniversary.

Jamie....

Looking unto Jesus,

To the Ones Who Have Called me Mommy:

Mattie,

I was terrified when you first stepped through my front door. You were terrified at the hand the world had dealt you. But somehow we danced the mother, daughter dance through the moments you called our home your safe place. You taught me grace, the gentle pursuit of being still among the ones I love. You taught me to rest in the unknown because there is One who knows. You changed my life.

Makayla,

You had my heart, and there were moments I didn't think I would ever breathe without you. You taught me to live with open hands. If our journey of foster care had ended with your adoption, we would have missed so many new mercies ordained by Him. Because of your short time with us, the door was opened to our the families becoming grafted by His grace. Each morning I place my hand on your picture and beg God to pursue your heart even now. 

Big Sis,

There are shadows in your heart that haunt me. Some nights, I wake in the night, silently weeping for the burdens I know you refuse to share, the corners you deny anyone entrance to. You have taught me that He holds us. I remember the moment I opened to door to you. I was so scared that we wouldn't have the endurance to travel the long road that lay ahead. He stilled my soul and whispered that He knew your future before I ever knew your name. You are written on His hands. Don't settle for knowing less. You are beautiful, just as you were made for Beauty. I failed in speaking that to you. Satan heckles my regrets of our time together over me at times, the moments I failed to pursue you. But I know, that together you and I wrote a story that tells the world Grace is for the imperfect and takes us to the throne of the One who gave His perfection for us.

Little Sis,

There are moments you call me Mommy and moments you scream Ms. Catie. When you came to visit a few weeks ago, I savored our cuddles into the late night. I would like to say you taught me patience :) But it's deeper than that. You taught me to remember that I am a princess and my Father is the King of Kings, and in the precious chances I still am able to look into your eyes, I seek to whisper that into your soul, so that you never forget. You were made for glory. Don't listen to less.

J,

Writing your name still causes tears to spring to my eyes. You taught me the reality that He is the Author of our stories. I wanted to write yours, and there would have been so many blaring gaps. Through His hands, I laid you on the altar of my soul, and beauty sprang from sorrow. There will be a day when you no longer say Mama and reach for me when you see me. I will one day be known as the strange woman who always remembers your birthday and cries every time you see her. Son of my heart, you have a heritage of faith. The name of Jesus has been whispered over you a trillion times. Let it be engraven on your heart as you grow. There's not a day that goes by, that I do not put my handprint in yours and once again feel the delight of your presence in our home.

Cinderella,

You walked through the door, took my hand and said, Mommy. And in that second, your blond, bouncy curls captured my heart. And once again I am learning the long journey of sacrifice as I love you fully, hold you fully, and will one day grieve you fully. You are worth that and so much more. As I look at you I'm constantly reminded that our only place of refuge can be in Him. I see you chase after every place that seems to bring contentment, and sorrow wells within my soul because I know your young heart has never known rest. And so in the daily moments where I take your hands, I pray for a few more days for us to learn this truth together. 

Buster B,

You're told from every angle that you will never measure up. Yet, each day you choose to face the truths you fear most. I want to be like you one day. You are teaching me to hope when there seems to be no hope as you believe in the ones who have failed you most. I'm still discovering the delights of your soul, but I love you. Don't ever stop fighting where you feel called to fight. He ordains our callings, not the world. Be bold in the beauty He is writing through you.

Peppermint Patty,

You greatest longing is to please, and that longing took you to the gates of Hell on earth. Now, you live with the nightmares. I wake some mornings in rage at the shadows that follow you. Yet, you do not let your story define you. You're fighting to discover what role it will play in your life. It is an honor to call you daughter for this season. It's my joy to discover the intricacies that thrill and sadden you. Your path of learning to forgive greatly is calling my heart to explore depths of forgiveness I did not know before. You are a warrior.

K Bug,

You're gonna bring down the house. But truthfully, you are helping me discover the joy of laughing again, as you giggle at every dadgum thing in your life. It's your escape and your expression of delight. I'm falling in love with it. I'm humbled to be the the one helping you learn to attach. From walking in my home refusing to be held or touched, to now allowing us to hold your hand, rub your back, or stroke your hair, you're re-learning you were made to be loved deeply. Aren't there moments when we all forget that truth? 

Daniel,

You hold my heart. From the first, I love you, you speak in the morning, to the 1,000th you utter as I tuck you in, you make my heart flutter. The Father knew the encouragement I needed when He gave me you. Our prayer for you has always been that you would have a courageous heart, as you remember that you were designed to be a warrior for Christ. The fact that I am the chosen mommy to walk that journey of discovery with you, blows me away. You have my heart.

Benjamin,

We're too much alike for our own good. You are me in ultra-concentrated form, shaken and spewing. Don't you love that God what He knew was doing when He made us? Every child that comes through our home finds safety and confidence in you. You're able to relate to any and everyone. You gently pursue, and pull them from their stories as you make them laugh until they cry. My prayer for you is that you would have a quiet heart before the One who pursues you. Isn't that a prayer for all of us? Having you as my son is more like hacking me into the image of Jesus, rather than molding me, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

Caleb,

The one who made me a mother. The one who first babbled that name to me, and defined me before I remotely knew what the definition of my future would be. Son, I am so proud to see the man of God you are growing into. Your boldness in who you are in Christ, silences me. Walk humbly before your God. Thank you for being my right hand during the day. Thank you for allowing your heart to break for the broken. Thank you for walking this journey of discomfort with me. I wouldn't want it any other way.

                                             

And to the 30 who've stayed for days or years,

You've taught me that this journey of motherhood is not about a name or a title....

 It's not even about my happiness. 

It's about being formed into the image of my Savior as we walk this life together, no matter how long or short the time is. For you were never mine. You were placed in my hands for a season, and your days with me have been numbered by the One who made you. 

And we are learning together the reality, that He is able to do immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine.

I love you all with every breath I take,

A Birthday Letter To Me:

Catie,

34. 12, 410 days, add a few for leap years.

Look around you. See the holy, sacred moments. The spaces you never thought would be filled. The silenced hauntings that your Father would never show His face.

That you were forgotten.

Since high school, you've prayed for one thing...

That you would know deeply whose you are, so that you can make known the One who has claimed you as His own.

There were hundreds, no thousands, of moments you have forgotten.

In the broken relationships, pressures of school, stress of work, strains of marriage, failures of parenting, and explosions of turning your face from the One who loves you most, the scars of forgetting that you were made for more are bare on your soul.

But scars tell a story, and give caverns for Grace to abound abundantly.

And because of Christ, the roots sunk deep, though the storms howled. 

The seeds grew down beneath the surface, before the fruit was ever born.

And now, it's your cadence. The rhythm of your marriage, the story of your parenting, the tale of your ministry, the foundation of your love story with the Lover of your Soul...

You were made for beauty. You have been grafted in to the One your soul seeks after - even when you can't feel it.

This ache, that never allows you to rest, is the stirring of eternity within your heart. Don't ever drown it out. Allow it to enlarge its territory with each passing year, with each new story that unfolds in your life. In light of faith, it will lead you to wonder and hope, not despair and desperation as you once so dreadfully feared.

Look around.

This mess, this gloriously beautiful mess, it's not you. The laundry piled high, and the vomit rivers in the bathrooms, and the chocolate handprints on the walls. They're gifts.

Hidden Pearls.

He's allowing you into the spheres of brokenness in your children, in their families, in the workers and system who serve them.

He doesn't need you.

And it's weary, and it's messy, and sometimes, the grief seems more than you can bear, but you were never meant to bear it alone.

And so He allows you to see their smiles, celebrate their successes and cheer for the smallest steps forward.

And He allows the Man of God who journeys with you to lead in wisdom and hope.

And He allows the Sons He grew within you, to be part of something so much bigger than they could dream.

And He graces you with covenant friends, who hold up your hands.

You are not meant to do the next 34, or 40, or 45 years. 

You are called to be faithful today. And then tomorrow.

And the small decisions of faithfulness and repentance with hope each day give birth to a legacy of grace for years to come.

Be faithful today, because the One who calls you is before you.

You were made for Jesus.

To my Sweet Baby J...

You're one.

You'll never know the way you looked at us when they dropped off all five and a half pounds of you, a year ago. You may never be told we were your third home in a week.

You may never know the first one who held you, the one whose body gave you life, who chose hard, when everyone else told her no.

You may never know the one who has held you through this year. They told us three days, maybe a couple of weeks, but a month at most. And here we are a year later.

Papa Jamie said I was crazy.

Now, you own his heart.

You'll never know the way you curl your fist around my fingers to rise, or the shrill you give when I come in the room.

You may never know the first one you called Mama, and you won't remember the feeling of my tears that fell when I knew you meant it.

You won't remember the stampede that comes when you scream, Baba, as a herd of brothers fight to be the one you are crying for.

You won't remember your sisters who have fed you, rocked you and cuddled with you on the floor.

They tell me you will always remember you were safe this first year. They tell me you will remember how to attach.

I know there is One who promises that His words will never be forgotten. . .

So, you have heard that Jesus loves you one million times in the last 365 days. I whisper His name from the moment I lift you from the crib, to the second I lay you down at night. Because I know His name cannot be forgotten.

So, you have cradled my face with your little hand as I've sang "Come thou fount of every blessing," to you in the dark of each night. Because I know His song cannot be forgotten.

So, He has grafted you into this Mother's heart, because He will not let me forget. And, if after a few short weeks I never have the grace of holding you, my son, again, He will not let a day pass that your name is not uttered from my lips, intertwined with hope of your Creator. If my only role from this day forward is to only lift you before His throne, then that is a high calling I cannot forget.

For, you were never mine, just as your Babas are not mine. You, they, we, were made for a high calling. And, if this year was only so that your soul could have whispers of all eternity written on your heart, then I am humbled to have been your mother in that purpose.

My son, you have my heart, and every prayer I could utter through my hope-filled grief cries to the Father not that you would be safe and protected, but that you would know always that you were made for more. You were made for Jesus.

I love you more than you will ever remember or know.

Be still my soul.

All for Jesus,

Mama Catie

To my Passion Child

Dear Benj,

Yesterday was your first birthday that I didn't hold you. You're celebrating with your great-grandparents at the beach. That's precious. But, I couldn't let the day go by without writing you, because it's your birthday that changed my life.

It was seven years ago yesterday when I first held you, but it was six years ago when I first held you through the night. It would be the first of three years of nights, dark nights.

I would hold you as you vomited and cried through the nights, over and over. I would lose my mind and much of my faith.

I would watch with Daddy as you wasted away before us with no answers, and I would struggle with everything I knew of God.

I would wail a mother's wail when scary words were mentioned and when it seemed no one would listen.

But it was also another first. It was the first real finger God would break from my grasp. It was the first real chisel in the idol of order and peace I had constructed for myself, and I would learn it was beautiful.

For although I would have never said it, the container I had constructed for the God of all creation to remain in, was a joke. And your journey of sickness, would mark the first steps, as he took Daddy and me to the end of ourselves over the next four years to see God in His Holiness, and not what we desired Him to be.

When we began this crazy life and ministry, many told us no. Many said no because of all we had been through with you. They don't know you. Because Daddy and I know...

Your first years made you a fighter. Your tummy is never truly at rest, and neither are you. You fight when there seems to be no answer, just as you love when there seems to be no love to give.

And you fight for your new brothers and sisters when even Daddy and I are weary of fighting.

You dream, and your faith is ever so big. Nothing is impossible in your world, except the limitations you put on yourself. You're so much like me; you can finish my sentences and argue both sides of our discussions. You dream beyond what this world will ever see as impossible, and then you fear going there. It only takes a step, Son. God will lead the rest.

I go back over and over to the fact that God designed our family for this ministry. Every child that comes into our home, you are their favorite...shhhhh. They fall in love with your limitless affection, laugh hysterically at your wild stories, and watch as you and I must repent to each other again and again.

You love without boundaries.

We went to Baby M's family's house last week. It's not the easiest place. As everyone slowly stepped from the car, you bounded and threw your arms around grandmother and sister. My soul wept within me to realize how honored I am to have you for a son. There is no higher calling.

I often say you will change the world for Jesus, but getting you there may kill me. You know me better than I know myself, yet again and again you give me grace when I sin against you.

From the moment we knew you were on the way, nothing about your life has been ordered or scripted. Through you, God has taught us to throw our planners out the windows and to torch our visions of a beautiful life. You have taught me to look deeply into your eyes, our children's eyes, today. The rest will come together in time.

I am so proud of you, Benj. You have changed Daddy's and my life. We know and drink of Jesus so much more deeply because of the story He is writing through you.

I love you to the moon and back. Happy 7th birthday.

Mommy

To the Ladies in the Grocery Line

You stood behind me today as the line grew longer, and you watched as her little chubby hands tried to slip the juicy fruit gum into her pocket.

You watched her flinch, as I gently told her no. Then you gaped as she kicked me in the shin over and over and threw herself onto the floor.

You shifted as the clerk waited patiently, and you slightly tensed as the line behind you grew longer, but I just stood.

You attempted to encourage me in your own way, "My, you have your hands full."

I ignored you. But I wanted to say, This is easy. It's only one-sixth of my workload.

You saw the tantrum and the crying and wondered at my mothering techniques.

But...

I saw my little Diva regulate her emotions. I saw her stand and look me in the eye as I asked, "Baby, did you try to steal the gum?"

You saw my little rascal steal and flail.

But...

I saw her trust me enough to look in my eyes and say, "Yes, Momma Catie. I stole it."

I understand your feelings and your thoughts. But you see, you saw the problem and the failure. There was once when I would have too.

But today, I saw my little girl for this season trust me with the truth, even if it was scary.

And that progress is worth celebrating.

To My Son

Dear Caleb,

Today, you are nine. Early this morning, I crept into your room and quietly watched your chest rise and fall and silently wept in humility that God has graced me with you as my son.

Every day I fail you, and your tender heart is so fragile with want to please. Sometimes I succeed in using my catastrophes to walk you to the one who will never fail you, to your perfect parent. Sometimes, you must walk me there.

You are your earthly father. Your looks and humor, your build and talents - it duplicates all he is, and he is my hero. You battle to show vulnerability as he does, and you refuse to admit you are wrong.

Your heart belongs to Christ alone, and we strive to come alongside of you as you grow in this realization. Yet, so often, you set your offering to Him as a grasp for perfection, as we all do. Baby, it's in your sorrow, your poorness of heart that He whispers to you. Cling to that.

You will never be perfect, and there is no perfect plan, because He will change it. But, as I've looked deeply into your eyes so many times and told you, you can go and be anything He has called and created you to be, to whomever and wherever He calls you to be His hands and His feet.

Few people have the opportunity to discover this truth in their own home, yet you have taken it in stride. 

You have wailed with grief when they leave. You have written notes, they will never see. You have been the first to hold them, even before their own parents at times. You have forgiven, when it seems impossible to forgive. You have cheered, when it seems ridiculous to cheer.

You have been real. I want that more than anything in a son, and you have been that for me. You have screamed when you have wanted all this to go away, and you have knelt beside me at my bed to give it back to God once again. You have prayed for mothers and fathers whose sins are so grave, I can't explain them to you, and you have trusted us as we have trusted our - your - Savior.

You have drawn maps to help me figure out how to fit more beds, and you have denied your own material desires to give to those who enter our home with nothing.

Daddy has said often that this isn't our calling, but our family's. You have embraced it alongside of us, even when it has broken our souls. He knit us together as unit before the foundation of time, for His kingdom to be grown through us, in a way that only we can be a part of.

I am so honored to be your mother, your teacher, your sister in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Happy birthday, Son. You make me long to drink more deeply of Jesus, and there is no higher gift you could give me.

I love you to the moon,

Mommy

My Favorite Post of the Year - 51 Reason Why I Love Being a Mom

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

- By American Poet Emma Lazarus, 

and engraved on the Statue of Liberty

Three years ago, I prayed my home would embody something like this. When we moved into our home, I told Jamie I wanted it to become a safe-haven for anyone and everyone God opens a door too. 

"Who am I, O Lord, and what is my house 

that you have brought me thus far?"

- 2 Samuel 7:18

Why I have loved being a mother this year (51 reasons):

1. I. need. Jesus.

2. I had a daughter for seven months, who I fully gave my heart to. I am so honored to have been your Momma for such a short season, Baby M. 

3. I had the privilege of grieving her fully, because she was worthy of being grieved, and rejoicing in the new life God opened for her.

4. I sat and scratched Caleb's back in the early morning hours, when his heart was broken.

5. Benjamin and Daniel have become color-blind to skin color.

6. One of Caleb's baseball teammates fell down on the field. Everyone ran past him, but Caleb ran across the field to him and lifted him up.

7. My sons pray for orphans every day.

8. She tells me she loves me to the moon and back.

9. Benjamin wants to release balloons to heaven for PapaDick's Father's Day gift.

10. Daniel has an imaginary grandfather who has known him longer than any of us and has taught him everything he needs to know about life. He tells me a grandfather story every night.

11. I. have. no. control.

12. I have the honor of doing five loads of laundry every day, and I have six kiddos who help me build a "snow mountain" to slide down.

13. I stood beside my teenage daughter's forever mother and watched as she was baptized. I wept to think I have seen this beautiful girl spiritually adopted, physically adopted, and symbolically baptized into the Kingdom of God.

14. And that same daughter still calls.

15. She writes, "I love you, Miss Catie," on every piece of paper in the house.

16. My children have prayed for child after child in crisis as we've delivered clothes all across the city.

17. Benjamin read his first book.

18. Benj teaches me to take each hour, one at a time. I'm seeing his body restored before my eyes. He is a walking miracle.

19. I have the funds to grocery shop, even though I dread it, and cry every week.

20. My family never complains about turkey sandwiches.

21. I. long. for. Christ.

22. He reaches for me and smiles the biggest smile when he sees me.

23. In the last 18 months, I have mothered for some period of time 16 children in my home. To God be the glory, because His grace is more than sufficient.

24. I have an incredible group of friends who teach me how to be a Momma who loves Jesus more with each moment.

25. She glowed at her ballet recital, and I sat beside her Momma and cheered.

26. I had six mommas and grandmommas to shop for this Mother's Day, who were my children's families.

27. I took her on her first "real" shopping trip to a "real" mall.

28. My name is said 100 times an hour, easily.

29. My children have someone to scream at when they are angry.

30. My children have someone to tuck them in each night, and they are safe in a bed.

31. I. cling. to. Jesus.

32. They hear the name of Jesus each day, by the grace of God.

33. They forgive me every time I fail them.

34. My Heavenly Father is their perfect Father, and at best I will fail them.

35. I have the honor of pointing them to one who got it right for me.

36. The fingernail polish-covered carpet will always remind me she lived here. I won't fix it.

37. I have the gift of mothering mothers.

38. My family takes up an entire row at church.

39. One day I will laugh at Benjamin stories. One day.

40. My man is praying about the big bus.

41. All. for. Jesus.

42. I have the blessing of being my children's first teachers.

43. Her Valentine's, Christmas, field trip, and all the other school things I've been able to be there for.

44. The piano that bangs all day.

45. The baseballs that cover the back yard.

46. A man that rises to bless me.

47. Glimpses of my Savior that shatter every dark shadow of my home.

48. I have learned I can do hard...because of Him.

49. Having the gift of telling my children, their families, my husband, and our boys that it is not the end of our stories.

50. That I've been told one million times I have my hands full and asked every day if these are all mine. I never dreamed I would be able to hear those words 10 years ago.

51. He doesn't need me for any of this, but He's invited me to be part of His beautiful glory that will not be withheld. I only had to say Yes.

I'm Addicted to Motherhood because...

1. Benjamin said, "Mommy, for Mother's Day, I wrote you a rap about A.A. Milne." (author of Winnie the Pooh)

2. Caleb looks for Jamie and me every time he rounds first base.

3. I have more laundry than I could ever hope to do.

4. Daniel screams, "This little light of mine..."

5. They have an incredible daddy.

6. Caleb is working on a map of our house that will sleep 19 foster children, and he asks every morning if today is the day God will bring orphans to our home.

7. Benjamin is just like me, and so I know God's made him stubborn, passionate and emotional for a reason.

8. I serve a covenant God.

9. I am completely out of control.

10. My home is never clean for more than 10 minutes, so I have a perfect excuse.

11. We know the balloon lady and four cashiers by name at Publix.

12. I'm forced to begin and end my day on my knees.

13. We went to see a friend's new baby girl. I asked Caleb if he thought she was beautiful. He said, "Well, Mommy, she is, but she's white. I want brothers and sisters who are every color."

14. Daniel shakes his booty every time the Madagascar soundtrack comes on.

15. My furniture is much more remarkable with BEN written in black permanent marker all over it.

16. Every time Caleb asks, "Just one more pitch, Daddy," I smile.

17. I'm ambushed by water guns at least once a week.

18. I listen for the ice cream truck.

19. Benjamin is always thankful for the way the sun sets.

20. I'm so unworthy of them.

21. Caleb says he wants his little boys to have a mommy just like me.

22. My heart is broken for children around the world.

23. They whisper far into the night in the Star Wars room they share together.

24. Benjamin watches Caleb's every move.

25. My heart melts every time one of our senior high kids sweep the boys into their arms.

26. They're not mine. I'm honored to have this calling, to point them to their Savior for His glory and His purpose for them.