Spring

peanut butter pie and birthday hat from his girls

We celebrated our one other-than-winter birthday in our family this week. The girl's countdown finally got to April 6, Troy's 31st birthday. He has been reading Sherlock Holmes recently and enjoying becoming more astute in clue finding and such. The girls found an FBI detective kit for him at the dollar store and everyone had fun trying on the handcuffs and shooting the dart gun. Happy Birthday Love!
Troy doesn't usually read this blog but I will share anyway my joy in having him as my husband. I love how much he loves Christ Jesus. He pours himself into the study of God's word and demonstrates his great love for Christ by his love of Christ's people. As he recently became a leader in our small group, I am amazed at his dedication and passion for seeing the body of Christ built up and encouraged. He also teaches our children about Jesus, by loving them with the love of Christ, bringing them up in the fear and admonition of the Lord. He leads our family in worship and lives daily in front of us his devotion to his Lord. Each passing year has brought us closer to one another and deeper into this wonder called marriage. Greatest friend, confidant, lover, leader, protector. . . husband.

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During this quiet afternoon, I sought out some beauty of my own. Springtime is a favorite, second only to the warmer months of summer. Seasons and Days, Morning and Evening, the Creator God has ordained each to come and end, a symphony of His glory. Our trees are starting to blossom, the grass is starting to green.

In school this week, we are studying Imperial Rome as the backdrop to the atonement of Christ. We're a bit ahead but it still fits perfectly with this season of lent and Easter. Finishing the week's curriculum this afternoon, I read aloud the last two chapters of Matthew, chronicling the death, burial and resurrection. Usually during reading, there are at least several interruptions, either from the youngest or from a distracted older student. Today, I read the section to a room of silence. . . the entire time. Madelyn was reclining on the carpet, just listening. And I hope one day, that listening will produce true faith and understanding of the great price that was paid.