One of the greatest gifts of parenting is watching the personalities of your children unfold. How many presents we open daily by living alongside such little ones, whose faith and hope often surpass ours!
A sneaky little corner of my heart occasionally (okay, often) suggests that I'm more holy than those around me. This is a lie, of course, since filthy is filthy next to God's perfection. There are many ways to crave things other than God, so materialism and success are not the only idols vying for affection in our post-modern culture. Sure, I am more than satisfied with a 2-bedroom, 900 square foot apartment, which is plenty big enough to feed and entertain all the friends and strangers I could invite (and much easier to maintain than a larger space would be). I am quite happy with our nearly ten-year-old (reliable) cars, both of which were practically gifted to us. We have enough technology to keep us connected, but not enough to keep us tethered. We have enough toys to entertain a toddler through a six month winter, but not so many that clutter gives way to chaos. And while I used to think being professionally successful would be rewarding, the decision to halve our income