I love his smile.

But he's in the smiling is lame stage.

His favorite color is pink. 

He dances whenever he moves.
 
His eyes crinkle when he smiles and he smiles when he doesn't know what else to do.

He is great.

We stayed up late watching movies and then prayed that his sister would come home soon.  She's at camp and we miss her.

A page of my Bible fell out this week and I had a mini panic attack when I realized what I was holding.  God please bless the binding because the thought of a new one sounds worse than moving ten times. 

My dad fixed our entire house with gorilla glue.  We may have to operate when he arrives.

I'm not sentimental about many things. 

But my Bible has been to the ends of my Spirit and back and I can't lose that.

I used to have my kids take theirs with them wherever we went.  They'd complain and ask why and I'd tell them.  Because it reminds us of who we are.  And because you should always keep truth close to you.

When I'm in the pages, it's like I'm staring into a mirror.  And who I was and who I am and who I will be all stare back at once. 

And it's then that I best understand what being fearfully made means. My spirit is larger than I realize.  It's worn and new and dark and light and eternal but always changing.  Sometimes it feels like it is fighting to break out of my skin. 

Sometimes it feels like heaven is impossibly far away.