To raise a child who is comfortable enough to leave you, means you’ve done your job. They are not ours to keep, but to teach them to soar on their own.

It’s a saying I first heard last year at Brad’s wedding. His wife’s father spoke those words to everyone at the reception pointing out that while he was sad to see his daughter go, he was happy for her because she was not his to keep.

Those words stuck with me, and they’ve been ringing in my head over the past few weeks as our third child prepared to head north to start her new job. While I’d love to keep her with us at home (along with her older sister and brother), it’s not the right thing to do. We spend years working with our kids so they can venture out of the nest to live on their own. While it’s hard to let them go, when they leave it means we’ve done our job.

I listen to a lot of music across many different genres. I listen to it while I work, while I relax, in the car, out with friends, or on game nights with the family. Music is everywhere and permeates life. It also occurred to me that music has a “magical power.” It has the ability to cut across time and connect the past to the future.

Earlier this month, Courtney completed her coursework and officially became a graduate of the University of California, Davis. The event would normally have resulted in a gathering of family members in Davis to celebrate her accomplishments over the last four years. But with the pandemic and restrictions imposed on large gatherings, she had to settle for an online ceremony and small get together at our house. So instead of having pictures around campus in all of her graduation regalia, we had to settle for a less subdued picture in our family room.

My Aunt Debbie and Uncle Raymond celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary this month. Somehow, some way, a picture of their wedding party made its way to me.

Yellow tuxedos, fat bow ties, bridesmaids hats, plenty of hair. Yup, it was the seventies all right.

I was the ring bearer, front and center, and my sister, 5 years younger than me, is the flower girl on the far left. My mom and dad were also a part of the wedding party – bonus points if you can pick them out!

Congratulations on 43 years Aunt Debbie and Uncle Raymond! Thanks for including me in your special day – and don’t look back, Lisa and I are only 16 years behind you!

I used to believe that perfection was the goal in life. Everything had to be done just right with no room for error, no time for mistakes.

Maybe I’m getting older, or maybe just more experienced. I certainly have the gray hairs to prove it. Either way, one thing I’ve learned on my journey through life is the difference between excellence and perfection. While these two words seem so similar, they could not be more different. And understanding the difference between the two is critically important if we want to grow and move forward.

If the first half of this year is a sign of what’s to come, 2020 is shaping up to be a difficult year. While it feels like the challenges we face are unique, it’s not the first time in our country’s history that we’ve encountered tough times, nor will it be our last. And while it may seem like this time will never end, there’s reason for hope – that we can, and will, discover light in the darkness.

A couple of years ago, our church had a guest pastor who told an interesting story about his childhood. He was an older gentleman, probably in his late seventies or early eighties. He said that in the neighborhood where he grew up, people left their doors unlocked because there wasn’t anything inside worth stealing. The families worked hard and often relied on each other to make ends meet. While it would be considered a poor neighborhood by today’s standards, he and his friends didn’t see it that way. They played games in the streets and in each other’s yards. If he was considered poor, he didn’t know it. In fact, as he put it, “I didn’t know I lived in the ‘hood until I started watching TV. To us it was home.”