to my three sons, as i sit down to write these words to you, summer is gasping out its very last breaths. when the sun makes it a new day tomorrow, you will soon be rising for the first day of school. it is an interesting moment to be caught in: a kind of swirling whirlpool of excitement and sadness; a reluctant farewell to what has been an absolutely amazing summer, and an expectant joy about the year ahead. and it has been an awesome summer. we've been to the beach and built a fort. you went to summer camp and steelers training camp and made sourdough. we saw a grand slam at a baseball game, made slushies, and danced like crazy fools in the front row at a great concert on tussey mountain. we've eaten well, explored together, sung at the top of our lungs, and grown closer together. no small wonder that its hard to let go of all that. but if you knew the adventure that lies ahead, you would not be grumbling about alarm clocks, homework, and bus rides. if
a collection of words about God and life and art and baseball and football and hope and my family and my ministry and music and the immense joy in each moment of all of it. it's a record of being human. welcome.