
I've spent the last two days traveling from Florence to Heidelberg with Shelly and our four boys, each a fascinating world of his own. The terrain we've covered on our trip included grand imaginations, fierce tenacity, abundant information, and lots of engergetic explosions - I think the countryside might have been enjoyable as well.
I'd like to say that in all of this I soaked up every moment up, was exemplary in patience, and offered only gentle inspiration. Alas. Still, after 13 years of stumbling-in-the-dark parenting, I think I've learned that the art of knowing when not to do something is as important (if not more so) than the urge to do as much as I can.
I wonder if, as John grew up, Zachariah and Elizabeth found themselves perplexed at how to proceed in their task. Maybe, like me, they would at times just stop, and say, "I'm not sure I know how to proceed, or even if I should; he's yours more than mine, please take his hand and mine. Please."
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