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.

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.