Following

Following

Recently, my youngest son lost one of his last baby teeth at school. On the drive home, we started talking about what happens to all those teeth the tooth fairy collects. Let me just say, the variety of suggestions on that ride ranged from, “The tooth fairy uses them in her own mouth, like a shark tooth situation,” to “Santa moonlights as the tooth fairy to help pay the bills in the off-season.”

Of course, you’re asking, But wouldn’t that cost Santa money instead of making money?
Well, naturally, he then profits by selling the teeth on the black market.

I have never laughed so hard at such a ridiculous conversation.
In that moment, I realized: our kids are becoming like us, and even adopting our humor.
They’re taking on our ways as they grow into adulthood.

Faithfulness

Faithfulness

When May hits, Sarah and I find ourselves absolutely wiped out. Life, work, church, a dog… I feel like I’m forgetting something… oh yeah, raising our kids. It’s like running a marathon where every step is good, every step matters, but every step also drains you. You’re further down the road, but something’s been poured out. Even elite ultra-runners eventually hit a wall where they just can’t keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Then summer hits.

The first few days of summer feel like stepping into a completely different world. We’re no longer waking up before sunrise, no longer sprinting from school to after-school activities to homework to that never-ending evening routine. No more late night cramming in extra work, replying to emails, prepping for Bible study, and collapsing into bed just so we can do it all again the next day. Suddenly, those days are gone.

For a few brief moments, summer feels like slower mornings, no strict schedule, no hustle.

But then… late July arrives.

The Tower VOL 31

The Tower VOL 31

News from the Tower – 31

New Summer Stories, Baptism, Communities Launch Date and what’s coming up in the fall. Plus, parking passes included!

21 Years Ago

21 Years Ago

21 years ago this week, I traveled up to the St. Louis area from my summer job to hang out with Sarah and her family for the Fourth of July. At that point, Sarah and I had only been on one date at the start of the summer… then she promptly left town for four weeks. (She actually went to the Emerald Coast, which felt a bit personal. I didn’t think our date went that badly—but apparently, she needed a month and a coastline to recover.)

13 Years Ago

13 Years Ago

Thirteen years ago, Sarah was nine months pregnant in a high-risk pregnancy with our son, Foster. We didn’t know the gender and hadn’t picked a name yet, so we just referred to the baby as… well, “Baby.”

Our friends were convinced we should name him “Steven Danger Beard.” (We did not.)

We had been trying to have a child for over five years, and only later discovered that Sarah had some health issues that made pregnancy especially difficult. Doctors told us the baby would undoubtedly come early. So, we were on high alert—weekly appointments, bags packed, life in a holding pattern, anxiously waiting.