This morning, I was washing dishes and had my back turned to my four-year-old, who was coloring. “Daddy, I can make a ‘V,’” she said.
Tag: parenthood
Feeling Guilty for Being a Needy Child of God
I get carsick very easily. I always have. A few months ago, I was in the passenger’s seat of our car and my three-year-old daughter said, “Daddy, I can’t find it.” She was talking about this little plastic Cinderella figure her mom gave her.
Answer to the Cry of an Abandoned Son
Most of my childhood and teenage years, I grew up without a father. My dad left our family a handful of times, and even when he was home, he usually had a job as a truck driver, which meant he was on the road most of the time.
Why Not Let God Parent Other People?
My oldest daughter recently graduated to big kids’ Sunday School. What that means for her is: goodbye coloring sheets and eating Goldfish; hello memory verses and eight-year-olds.
God Wants to Color With You
Today, my four-year-old daughter and I colored a house that I drew. Our work of art isn’t perfect – in fact, we did the clouds in such a way that it looks like the back of the house is on fire. But whatever – we made it together. And when we finished, I think I caught a glimpse into how God interacts with His children.
The Reason Why God is Proud of You
This week, I was rushing to get out of the house to go to work, and my two-year-old daughter asked me to draw her a house. I took a green crayon and quickly scrawled a house on a blank sheet of paper. “Alright, now color it for me,” I said to her before running upstairs.
Somebody’s Going to Mess Up Christmas
Let’s be clear about one thing from the start: I have no doubt that my dad meant well. I was 10 years old, and Dad thought it would be a great idea for us to trek out into the woods behind our house and cut down our very own Christmas tree. At first, it seemed like a splendid idea, but then we dragged home a scraggly pine tree that looked like something from a very special Christmas episode of Little House on the Prairie. Dad rigged it up onto this wooden box in the back yard and prepared to haul…
I’m Taking Too Many Pictures of My Kids
If my parents had owned smartphones in the 1980s, I’d probably have more photos of my childhood – but as it stands, there are about 37 of them (including school pictures). Sometimes I feel a little sorry for myself, but lately, I’ve been feeling more sorry for my own children.
What if Jesus Doesn’t Show up?
Most of my childhood, I was raised by a working, single mother who usually couldn’t make it to daytime school events. Every once in a while though, she would slip away from work and come to school for something special. It meant the world to me when she was able to do that.
A Major Reason I Listened to My Mom
One day when I was 11 years old, my mother taught me a lesson I still remember. I was loading the dishwasher, and as I placed the utensils in the basket, I had a stroke of genius. I decided to place all the spoons in one section of the basket, all the forks in another section, and so on. That way, when I unloaded the dishwasher, I wouldn’t have to organize the utensils. I could just put them in their place in the drawer.
How to Be a Sorry Husband and Dad
I didn’t start the weekend trying to be a sorry husband and father – it came quite naturally. My wife was sick in bed with a severe cold, which was no fun for me. It meant that she expected me to take responsibility for the general well-being of her and our two toddlers. Of course, I was totally willing to do this – you know, for like 90 minutes. But then I realized I was trapped in my house and would be serving my family all day long.
What it’s Like When I Panic
“What is wrong with you?” my wife asked. I was cranky, snippy, and easily annoyed – by her, by my daughters, by the universe. I knew why, but I didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine,” I snapped back. I wasn’t fine. I was panicking inside.
Hoping for Heaven Again
In 1988, a charlatan named Edgar C. Whisenant published a book called 88 Reasons Why the Rapture is in 1988. In it, he predicted that Jesus would return at some point between September 11 and 13 of that year. People actually believed him, and unfortunately, my dad was one of them.
Two-Year-Old Prayer Warrior
Last Saturday, I awoke to the feeling of nausea , and within 45 minutes I was hugging the toilet. With that, I began a day of wallowing around in bed and aching like I’d been given tetanus shots all over my body. As I lay there suffering, Renee, my two-year-old, walked into my bedroom. She’s grown much more attached to me lately, and Saturday is usually a day we spend time playing together – but it wasn’t happening that day.
Confessions of a Pregnant Teenager
“When I was 17 years old, I had sex on the first day of my senior year of high school and got pregnant.” If that were the first line of your story, could you tell it? This is, in fact, the story of my old friend, singer/songwriter Rachel Wilhelm, and she’s telling it here today on my blog. If you are wrestling with shame because you’ve conceived a child out of wedlock or you were conceived out of wedlock, please read this post. Thanks, Rachel, for your fearless vulnerability.
Joshua Rogers 