Can you unlock the door please? What’s going on in there?
What happened to your shirts?
(After I went back upstairs to make lunch insert ten minutes of maternal crying and mourning over the frightening folly of youth. Lord, have mercy, dearest Jesus, hear my prayer.)
Of all the kids, Ethan, the oldest, is the one who has taken this move the hardest.
He misses his friends.
Every day he checks the mailbox hoping for a letter.
They say they’re gonna be pen pals now.
A letter from here to there takes about two to three days.
That’s a long time for a longing boy.
So he was super happy when a friend from a former home offered to bring up some boys for the day.
(She’s the same one who saved my life a few years ago when she offered to stay with my kids on her day off while I went to the grocery store).
Hey kids, look! More deer bones!
Kids, are you listening to me?
You do not yet know these trails well enough to be running off like that. Do you remember the Garden of Eden?
Even paradise had boundaries.
(Insert silent contemplation on the prone to wanderness of human instincts.)
Lord, even now.
Even now I still feel it.
But there is a river
a sweet Baptismal grace
whose streams make glad the city of God.
And the boy was happy.