I know now the hard-pressed nature of being a mama balancing countless responsibilities in and outside the home. An intense fear of dropping the iron of their upbringing or education while tending too greedily to the iron of my career… and yet, I’m grateful for this bookend vantage…

Our children are growing up in a world of gray space, an arena lacking definitive lines. And yet, I think they know the world cannot operate in this way.

“Why do they change words in some Bibles?” I could sense the skepticism in my son’s voice, a new tone carried throughout his questions in recent days. It’s uncomfortable, yet welcome. I asked him for it, really …

“Everything’s been taken off the table.” He stares at the larger pebbles remaining, finds the shells, sets them aside for safekeeping. “Now we get to decide what goes back on.”

My heart sank at his flippant words. All the insecurities I’ve worked to silence reared. Anger rose. That is when we pulled out paper and pens to trace 24 boxes.

It wasn’t the first neighbor I’d fed this response to, and it wasn’t the first time I doubted my own words.