hello.hello.hola.

 

Our Father's day involved a family breakfast, a rainy afternoon shopping trip to find all the necessary ingredients for banana nutella crepes, back rubs, and a late-night run to the corner hamburger stand that Joshua has been eyeing (both hungrily and fearfully) for the past 11 months.

So, with it being father's day and all, I spent some time reflecting on the papa of our own home, and I kept thinking about this thing he does - - where he goes up to the kid's room at night to tuck them in - to pray with them and give them the last hugs and kisses of the day - - it's pretty routine and ordinary, really.  But somehow, Joshua manages to inject a dose of fantastic into the ordinary:  sometimes it's the conversation that happens when he helps them to talk through how the gospel applies to hurt feelings;  sometimes it's pretending to get stuck in Selma's hug, or letting Josu kiss him two hundred times; sometimes it's bringing in the guitar and converting their prayers of thanksgiving into songs .  .  .

and this, I think, characterizes the papa of our home:
he cares faithfully for our our ordinary, common needs
in wonderful, generous ways.

You, Joshua, are an extraordinary father; thank you!