The Reality of True Loss. . .

. . . And a prayer for true life.

I have often said that one of my great anxieties in this life is over the idea of losing one of my children. Stories like the recent news of the death of Steven Curtis Chapman's little girl fill me not only with heartache, but also a sense of dread that such a loss might befall our family.

In my preparation for this Sunday's message on the person and work of the Holy Spirit I came across this sermon by John Piper. In his discussion of the role of the Spirit in the new birth, Piper shared this story:

When I came home from church last Wednesday night Noël told me she had been shaken because Karsten and Benjamin, our two older sons, had almost run out in front of a car on 11th Avenue on the way home. As I lay there in bed trying to go to sleep I shivered at the scene in my mind of my sons being killed by a speeding car. But then my mind shifted to the long view, to eternity, and the last thing I prayed as I went off to sleep was, "O God, I would rather lose all my sons now than that one of them fail to be born again. If, God forbid, it were a choice between life with me now and life with you forever, then take them. But don't let one be lost! Don't let one of them fail to be born again!" There is no more important event in anyone's life than being born again.

I was challenged by this prayer. I can honestly say that my greatest earthly treasure and my greatest human and temporal joy is found in my family. I would gladly be a pauper in a mud hut without a cent to my name as long as I have these five by my side. I would gladly give up my calling as a pastor for their sake. There is no earthly thing I desire above them- their presence, their love, their voices, and their very persons.

Note well that I have said earthly, human, and temporal. The real question is: Do I desire their spiritual and eternal blessedness above the temporal blessing of having them at my side today? Do I desire their spiritual life above their physical life? Could I pray with Pastor Piper, "O God, I would rather lose all my children now than that one of them fail to be born again. If, God forbid, it were a choice between life with me now and life with you forever, then take them."

Join with me in begging God not for the mere safety of our children, or their comfort, or their earthly security (financial or otherwise)- but for their LIFE. That they might have LIFE and have it abundantly. That they might now spiritual life, eternal life, life from the very Spirit of God by the work of Jesus Christ.

Living God and Heavenly Father, I intercede now for Tess, Bo, Emma, and Chloe. I pray that you would grant to them gift of eternal life. I ask that they would know you through your Son, Jesus Christ. I plead with you to rush into their hearts with rebirth, the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I ask for you to give they would taste true life that is beyond this life, infinite joy above and beyond temporal joys, heavenly treasures above and beyond any earthly riches, and that any human breath would be a vapor in light of their eternal life in you. I ask it in the name of Jesus Christ, who redeemed my life from the pit and brought me into your family as a son and heir. Amen.

My Favorite Day of the Week

It is 1:58 a.m. on Friday morning and I have just finished (if finished is the right word) my sermon for Sunday morning. After tonight's church family meeting regarding the purchase of a permanent church home and a few hours in preparation for our time at the table on Sunday I am reminded that there is no greater joy in heaven and on earth than to be a part of the bride of Christ and a child in the family of the God of the universe. To have the privilege of preaching and teaching the very Word of God to this bride and this family is a blessing beyond description.

Sunday we break bread and proclaim the death of Christ for the sin of the world.

Sunday we share wine and drink deep of the joy of salvation by the shed blood of Christ.

Sunday we open the Word of God, which is his breath and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness.

Sunday we sing and make melody in our hearts because God has put a new song upon our lips- a song of redemption, forgiveness, and power.

So, of course, Sunday is my favorite day of the week.

Bruiser Bo Braun!

I have 3 daughters and 1 son. But that 1 son is fulfilling all his duties as resident rough-houser and bone breaker. Yesterday he had an incident on the monkey bars:

You'll remember that Bruiser was born weighing in at a whopping 11 pounds. Upon his glorious entrance to God's world he broke his arm (I like to joke that he was so big that he came out eating a chicken leg). At two he tumbled down a couple of steps and busted his head (10 stitches?). And now he has broken both his ulna and radius. He has had more stitches and broken bones before the age of four than I have had in all my wonderful 35 years of existence.

I knew I shouldn't have bought him The Dangerous Book for Boys !

He keeps me stocked with great sermon illustrations.

The Stressed Out Baby

Think about it. In a matter of just a few hours and over the course of two days in all, a baby:

• leaves the peace and comfort of her home, travels the narrow little birth canal and enters the cold, hard world crowded with a mass of lights, yelling, camera flashes, beeping machines, crying dads, exhausted moms, thrilled grandparents, and bewildered siblings


• learns to breathe with her brand new lungs; yes, it is a reflexive activity, but come on...


• learns to eat; yes, another reflexive activity, but come on...


• must poop out what can only be described as something issued forth from the Exxon Valdez (a substance created by God to torture dads as they learn to change a diaper on zero sleep)


• is poked, prodded, tested, pricked, and manhandled over and over by a well meaning but quite overzealous hospital staff


• goes for her first car ride, bundled and packed into a carseat that is able to withstand the impact of an 18-wheeler if installed by a team of army engineers


• has unwittingly initiated a bitter rivalry with her two year old sister


• is quite confused about just when all the normal grown up humans sleep, establishing her own unique circadian rhythms and forcing her father to stare blankly at infomercials through the watches of the night


• poses for more pictures than a runway model in Milan


• goes through an entire wardrobe of the cutest li'l outfits you-ever-did-see, while soiling them all


• spends hours as these two strange, though strangely comforting, people oooh and aaah over her


• goes from one bizarre rocking, vibrating, blinking, singing, gurgling sitting device to the next


• endures all these new and exciting aspects of life on earth with little to no ability to communicate except for pitiful yelps and howls

And you thought your life was stressful.

Psalm 127:3

Welcome to the world, Chloe Eloise Braun!
May you grow to love the God who made you, serve the Savior who loves you, and be filled with the fruit of the Spirit who was given for you . . .

Dedication Sunday

This past Sunday was the second of our child dedication Sundays for the fall, and our Emma was dedicated to the Lord by our church family. Our whole family was there- Tessie, Bo, and of course Emma were up with Tori and I for the dedication. Tori's parents, Robert and Jane Wills, who are also members of our fellowship, were a few rows back with Tori's grandmother, Myrt (or Mee-Myrt our kids call her, to distinguish her from Mee-Ma; and not to be confused with Nana; we won't even go into who is Pee-Paw and who is Pa-Paw). On the second row sat my Mom and Dad, Susan (Nana) and Mike (Pee-pa) Braun, who have been living in Tally for close to a year now and also worship at Four Oaks with us. To the left was my older brother Mike, who is a teacher and coach at Lincoln high school, with his wife Karen, who teaches at Community Christian School, and their three boys. A couple of rows back from them sat my younger brother Adam, who moved here recently, with his wife Rachel and their two boys. Next to him sat my younger sister Kristen who is a student here in Tallahassee and is one of the youth leaders at Four Oaks. From my side of the family, the only ones missing were my older sister Robin and her husband Don (who live in Jax with their four kids). Tori's only sister, Monica, lives in Okinawa with her husband Brandon, and they are expecting their first child.

With all these believing and loving Moms and Dads, Grandmas and Grandpas, Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins surrounding us as we lifted our youngest child to the Lord my heart was filled with joy. It is not always easy having so much family around, or being their pastor, but it is always a blessing.

Children and God's Glory

Sorry I’ve been woefully neglectful in keeping up with the blog. Our family moved into a new home this past week and I’ve been consumed with packing, cleaning, loading, unloading, searching, dusting, unpacking, fixing, breaking, calling repairman, assembling, dissembling, re-assembling, re-dissembling…you get the picture. All the joys which attend putting your family into boxes and taking them to another abode.

Speaking of families…this past Sunday I preached on Matthew 19:13-15 which is the familiar passage of Jesus blessing the children. A couple of things I said seemed to stir the ire of a few out there (I know this because I anticipated such a reaction in my preparation, and because I’ve received a few comments so far). So, some further comments might be in order. Or, as they often are from my computer, might be way out of order. Nonetheless, please read on.

First, I said that in embracing the little children (and blessing them according Mark 10:16) the Lord is affirming the value and worth of these littlest ones contra the world and the flesh which denigrates and disparages their value. This is an important point to make in our culture of death that aborts 1.3 million children yearly. This is an important point to make in our culture of perversion, prioritizing wealth and comfort above the glorious privilege of childrearing. I said that children, like you and I, are made in the image of God and so are glory bearers and glory givers. So, more children means more glory to God. And more glory to God is always, always, a good thing. To be sure, because of sin, the struggles of this life, the weakness of our flesh, the demands of the world, and the strategies of Satan- glorifying God above all things is difficult. When I say more children means more glory I do not at all mean that this is easy. I do not think that it is without a great price. Glorious things are often not easy- this is part of what makes them so glorious.

Second, I said in reference to Matthew 19:13 that someone brought the children to Jesus. I noted that there is a burden upon parents to bring their children to be blessed by Christ. It is the duty of parents to ‘bless’ their children by bringing them to the Word, bringing them to the body of Christ, bringing them to God in prayer, bringing them the Lord through love and care. There is a burden that Fathers bear especially in this call to care for and spiritually lead their homes in subjection to God and the Word (consider Ephesians 6:4 and Colossians 3:21 which direct commands to the fathers as the heads of the household). There is a burden that Mothers bear to nurture and care for their children as more valuable than professions, affluence, reputation, or comfort. And so, we find the repeated call to women to be ‘builders of the home’- Titus 2:4-5; 1 Timothy 5:14; Proverbs 31. I said that if God has blessed you with children, then they are the vocation he has given you for at least an extended season. Does this mean that women with little ones should not work outside the home? Well, that is often my general counsel to couples (without extenuating circumstances- such as single parenting- and even so, I believe that in many ways more than others, children of a single parent need the constant nurture of a mother rather than paid daycare employees)- if you are able, then the mother should commit herself to the full time care of the little ones.

As I said Sunday- in all these things there is liberty. And to say there is liberty is not to say there are not boundaries and biblical directives. The liberty comes in each one’s life as they make their decisions and order their lives, marriages, and homes under the authority of Jesus and His revealed Word. As it says in God’s Word,

For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore whether we live or die, we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that He might be Lord both of the dead and of the living. But you, why do you judge your brother? Or you again, why do you regard your brother with contempt? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God. For it is written, "As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to Me, And every tongue shall give praise to God." So then each one of us shall give account of himself to God. (Romans 14:7-12)

I fear that, for many, the decisions about whether or not we have children, how many we do have, or whether or not we will stay home and care for them (or who will stay home and care for them) are made according to the demands and agenda of the world and our own flesh rather than in subjection to our Lord Jesus Christ and a thorough commitment to His Word.

Let me give you an example. Just the other day I was talking to a Christian man about whether or not he would have any more children. He has two already. He was very cynical about the idea of more children, and scoffed and joked at the thought. I asked why he has made this decision and why he is so cynical. First, he talked about finances (even though he is a pretty stable guy financially, and wealthy according to most standards). Then he talked about how tired he and his wife were. Then he talked about how much private schooling is. Then he talked about his desire to travel later. Then he talked about the world’s population problem (all valid considerations in their own right, save the stupidity of population concerns).

I asked him what he thought the bible has to say about such a decision. He laughed and said that the bible probably says to have more children. My point in bringing up God’s Word was not to prove to him that you can find how many children you are to have by looking in a concordance- but to show him that he essentially doesn’t care what God says about such things because he hasn’t searched the Word of God, or put himself under it, and actually has willfully neglected it in fear of what obedience might look like. I asked him if he was praying with his wife about this. The answer was an ahem, ahem, and then an uh, well, and finally a well, kind of and then ultimately a no. I asked him if he was praying with other brothers in Christ about such a decision. The response was flatly no. Like so many decisions we make, the decision of this man was fundamentally based upon secular assumptions, fleshly concerns, and worldly fears.

Now, let me assure you, I have this sort of conversation, with this sort of response constantly. Yes, this example is incidental and anecdotal. But I want to portray what is a cultural reality and generally true in many an evangelical home. And I want to challenge this ethos with God’s Word and the heart of Christ. Don’t you?

I Challenge You. . .

. . . to tell me what could be better than kissing the cheek of your sleeping child.

Highlights from Vacation

Going to 'Rock City' (can't miss it- there are signs 'SEE ROCK CITY' for about 500 miles in every direction) on Lookout Mountain. This is a huge rock formation (discovered by missionaries to the region who claimed it seemed to be a 'citadel of rocks') that you can walk through with cliffs and caves and labyrinthine pathways. There is one portion called 'Fat Man Squeeze'- a narrow sliver of a walkway through the rocks- and as we approached, Tori read the sign to Bo and Tess who both turned and pointed at me, laughing. What is up with that?

Visiting the aquarium in Chattanooga. It is great, go check it out if you are ever in the area. There is also a great park across the river with a beautiful carousel and water fountains to play in.

Harassing the Christians giving out free hot dogs at the park. I pretended to be a pagan. Eventually I admitted that I was a Christian and a pastor (when Tori walked up) and they were quite relieved. Don't worry, they thought it was funny.

Driving to the mountains of N.C. to find a beautiful home where a family generously allowed us to stay. We'd leave the doors and windows open all day and night with a glorious breeze constantly refreshing us. We'd sit on the deck with an incredible Smoky Mountain vista. Awesome.

Going on a walk along a mountain creek with Tess and Bo.

Napping most every afternoon.

Grilling out most every night.

Read three books that had nothing to do with ministry or theology (per se- though of course EVERYTHING has to do with theology).

Watched movies (they had a great selection at the house).

Had a great time in the Word and prayer each day (I've started through the historical books- got through 1 Samuel this past week).

Tubing with the kids at Deep Creek just outside of Bryson City.

Tori and I went on a great date in Highlands, N.C. A wonderful little mountain town. Very expensive restaurants, though.


Did I say napping most every afternoon?

Wrastling Chilluns. . .

Last week Tori planned a trip out of town for a couple of days with some women in our church. Emma is not yet weaned, so she would go as Tori's companion. That leaves me with our other two precious ones, Tess (5) and Bo (3). In anticipation of our 'Daddy Day' (that is what we call most Fridays, my day off, when I give Tori a reprieve from the toddlers) I asked my kids what they wanted to do.

"Mommy's going to be going on a trip for two days. We are going to have TWO Daddy days! What should we do?" I said. They both sat and thought for a moment. I offered some possibilities:

"We could go to the bookstore and play with the choo choo train and read books! We could go to Chik Fil A and play in the playground!"

They shouted with a "YEAH!" or "WHOO!" at these options. I continued:

"We could go to the park! We could go get ice cream! What do you guys want to do? You tell me. It's your Daddy Day, you tell me what you really want to do with Daddy."

They gave their reply so quickly, with such clarity, and such wholehearted unanimity, it caught me off guard.

"Let's wrastle!"

Yes, they pronounce 'wrestle' like some old redneck small engine repairman from Bithlo, Florida.

This takes a man back. It won't be like this forever. His two little ones have a host of options before them to enjoy with their Dad. They could do a hundred things over the weekend, and Dad would be sure to oblige them in their wishes. Yet there is one thing my kids wanted to do. They wanted to wrastle. They want to roll around on the floor with Dad. They want to run and yell around the house with Dad chasing after them. They want to climb on my back, they want to be hoisted over my head, they want to be tossed to and fro as Dad grunts and growls.

I know full well that there will come a day when I'll try to wrastle with my kids and they'll sneer and shoo me away like I've lost my mind. But this past weekend, the most important activity to Tess and Bo was being tickled, throwing their arms around my neck and riding on my shoulders.

So I let them have their way. We did a lot of wrastling.

Like I said, it won't be like this forever.

A Perfect Evening...

1. 70 degrees, beautiful blue Tallahassee sky overhead.
2. My 9 month old, Emma, playing at my feet.
3. My other two precious ones, Tess and Bo, playing happily in the immediate vicinity.
4. My guitar nearby, for occasional strumming with an accompaniment of yelps and yodels.
5. My fourth precious one, Tori, inside cooking some killer chili. And if you feel there is some inequity in my enjoying this evening whilst Tori labors in the kitchen be assured that I shall do the dishes.
6. An ice cold Miller (which is, of course, the champagne of beers) in my hand. [If this bothers you, please read or listen to my sermon here: http://www.fouroaks.net/docs/ChristianLiberty.1-15-06.pdf; http://fouroaks.net/index.cfm?fuseaction=content.listAreaSummary&id=88]
7. A thick Systematic Theology on my lap (I just received R.D. Culver's new Systematic Theology as a birthday gift from my Mom and Dad, check it out here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1845500490/sr=8-1/qid=1143501781/ref=pd_bbs_1/104-7911597-6711128?%5Fencoding=UTF8).

Since seven is the biblical number of complete-ness, I will stop there, though I certainly could go on.

An Excellent Wife

Valentine’s Day has come and gone again. I truly hope that all you men under my watch at Four Oaks Church did your best to honor and bless your wives with a good dose of romance. I know, I know, isn’t this just another day for the retailers to gouge us? $29.99 for twelve sad looking roses with a rubber band tied around the stems is a rip off no matter how you look at it. So buy your wife roses some other day. That is a pretty tired gift anyway, at least for Valentine’s day. Nothing spells love and romance like stopping at Publix on the way home from work.

Some of you are gifted in working with your hands. Make your wife some gift where she is able to see that you labored and toiled with your hands and your heart on her behalf. Are you a geek? Make a special website filled with pictures and neat stuff just for her. Are you handy? Take a whole day and work around the house fixing all the things that need to be fixed. Maybe you have no skills around the house, like me. Just washing and detailing the family van so that your wife doesn’t have to pluck stale old French fries off her skirt as she gets out of the car for church Sunday means a lot. Think about it. Your marriage, her sanity, and your sex lives depend on it.

For Tori this Valentine’s Day I spent some time writing a history of our lives together. No, you don’t get to read any of it - and if you want to, you really need to get a life.

This little history was a great thing for my own heart. It stirred up all those memories, all those wonderful times together, the powerful infatuation of a young college boy for this beautiful girl.

I was only a year into my undergrad studies when I began to heed a very strong call to pastoral ministry in the local church. Being a preacher’s kid myself, I knew how crucial it is to the ‘success’ of a man’s ministry as shepherd in the flock of God to have an ‘excellent wife’ and raise together believing children. In this postmodern feminizing culture, I knew as well that finding a woman who would be committed to marriage and the home as a noble calling and virtuous vocation would be a tall order. I began praying earnestly for a godly woman to come alongside me in this calling.

Tori and I were musing together about how much we have both changed as we considered our 12 year history. You can see the change in me by looking at the old pictures. I tell Tori, and everyone else, that she is married to twice the man I was back then! [My increasing waistline is a testimony to her wifely care of me! I also kid that if I don’t continue in chubbiness, I would be irresistible to the ladies. I don’t want to cause them to stumble. This is a joke.]

All kidding aside, I have seen God do such a wondrous work in and through this extraordinary woman!

When I met her, Tori was like so many other young Christian women in college today. Tori truly loved the Lord, but was confused as to what His will was for her. She struggled with the pressing issues of the day, the overwhelming cultural pressures to be a professional, to be liberated from the shackles of traditional patriarchal paradigms in the academy, workplace, church and home. But in examining this beckoning brave new world, she was struggling to deal honestly with the Scripture’s teaching about true femininity, the calling of motherhood, the nature of submission and headship. We would have a lot of long and difficult conversations about these things early on. I love to kid her about some of her life’s plans and goals back then. I remember she told me that she would not be married and begin having kids until she was 30 and had already begun and stabilized a thriving career. I now like to remind her that she was a housewife living in a Tallahassee suburb with two kids before she turned 30!

Those of you that know Tori might be surprised by her early goals. But isn’t this standard fare being thrust into the hearts of our young women? There is a constant yet sometimes subtle denigration of motherhood as a vocation and homemaking as a noble and full time duty. There is the elevation of professional vocations outside the home at the cost of having children, or at least nurturing them as God intends. There is the mounting greed and materialism of our culture that demands we drive the best cars, and have at least two or three of them, the best homes, the best clothes, the best vacations, and all of this at the cost of building nurturing environments in the home where intimacy, love, joy, and time is available to the humans living there.

Tori and I began to discover together the rich truths of God in His Word concerning her identity as a woman, my identity as a man, and the great blessing of biblical marriages and homes. Tori is a strong woman. This doesn’t keep her from being submitted to me. Her strength before God actually enables her to submit to this flawed man! Tori is a smart woman. She has a degree in nutrition and food science from the University of Florida. She was a bright and gifted dietician. This doesn’t keep her from the mundane daily duties of building a home and caring for our little ones. I saw her give birth to three babies, one of them eleven pounds. I almost fainted. I watch her exhibit an almost supernatural patience with our little ones. She is patient with me as I devote long hours to the care of the church, to writing sermons, and staying up late agonizing over church duties. I watch her make do with our little home, making it a warm and inviting place. This takes care, ingenuity, wisdom. She is frugal. She is a good steward of the resources God gives us. She is longsuffering with me. I am impetuous, she is calm and thoughtful. I am overly sensitive, she is rational and gracious. She sees all the worst of a church with me, and begs me to stay the course for Christ. She is a lover of truth. She is committed to God’s Word. In my eyes, she has no equal.

I recently read the credentials of the wife of one of my former seminary profs, Dr. James. Actually, Dr. Frank James is now the president of Reformed Theological Seminary/Orlando. His wife is now an author and ‘international speaker’. Interestingly, his wife, Carolyn, was in a Sunday School class at St. Paul’s Presbyterian Church I taught while in seminary at RTS/Orlando. Her credentials read:

Carolyn is her husband’s favorite theologian. She is not a kitchen wife. She
does not keep house, cook clean or sew, but she reads an awful lot and often talks to women (and sometimes men) from all over the world about women’s struggles within the evangelical church. Lately, she has been reading a lot on the plight of women in the Middle East. She helped Synergy Conferences for women seminarians and women in vocational ministries, which is sponsored by her ministry organization, Whitby Forum, in alliance with Campus Crusade for Christ International and RTS/Orlando.

These credentials made me sad and angry. I am sad that we have a ‘leading evangelical’ that would glory in refusing the biblical exhortation to women to be ‘builders of the home’. I also am grieved that the wonderful labors of my ‘kitchen wife’ are cast aside as unimportant to the real work of real women, like ‘reading an awful lot’. I am so thankful for my wife’s sacrifice of her ‘reading time’ so that my children will learn to read at her feet. I am so glad for my wife’s sacrifice of her ‘conference schedule’ to change little Emma’s diapers and nurse her five times a day. I am thankful that my wife sacrifices opportunities to teach men and humbly submits herself to this one. I am angry that her labors, that I am convinced are thoroughly biblical and God glorifying, would be so cynically dismissed by one who should be an ‘older woman’ and should be ‘teaching what is good’.

I am becoming increasingly convinced that the world will always denigrate what the Bible lauds as excellent. And it will take great fortitude, true wisdom, and an unwavering commitment to the whole counsel of God’s Word to maintain a solid grasp on those things that are truly excellent.

So, this Valentine’s Day, I am eternally thankful for the gift of God to me in my excellent wife. I only hope that I might one day be as excellent a husband!

Laminate Floors and Little Feet

A couple of years ago Tori and I decided that it was time to do something about our nasty carpets. We inherited the carpet when we bought the house in '01, and knew that it would be a matter of time before we had to update them. First, they we worn and a bit skanky upon occupancy. Our two babies and their diverse bodily excretions spread liberally throughout our domecile didn't help the situation. Add in my tendency to break the rules and eat my pizza rolls, oreos and milk, etc. sitting in various carpeted areas throughout the house (This blog is not about my horrendous eating habits, so let's move on). There you have a nasty carpet situation on your hands.

Well, we began considering our options. I wanted the circa 1975 thick purple shag throughout the house, but I have never been the one with a lot of home decor sense. We both love hardwood floors, but realized to put in hardwood floors would cost more than the house itself. It would be like putting a state of the art mega-righteous sound system in my old college '77 datsun that I ultimately had to pay someone to remove from my front lawn. So, given all the possibilities, we went for 'laminate flooring'.

Now, I know that sounds hokey. I imagine one of those big hot roller machines from my elementary school that was used to laminate various drawings, projects, pictures and calendars, so that they could be preserved for a lifetime, providing fond remembrances and many tears for my mother as she came across them in the attic years into the future. But, to my chagrin, they didn't bring one of those to our house to install the floors. In fact, the crew that installed our laminate flooring is fodder for yet another, future blog post. Anyway, laminate looks just like wood flooring, just much cheaper, and it doesn't last as long. It is the flooring of the average joe.

Well, this floor can be quickly distinguished from wood floors when you step on it. It is sturdy enough, but definitely a bit flimsier than normal wood. And this is the thing I love about our new floors. There is a distinct clickity clack pitter patter sound that little feet make as they scurry across it.

It is the sound of Bo and Tess early in the morning making their way across the house to wake up Mom and Dad. It is the sound of little ones sneaking out of their room far beyond bedtime, delicately approaching the bathroom for a drink of water. It is the sound of hurried feet slipping and sliding around tables, sofas, and corners as Dad chases them through the house. It is the sound I think I will never forget, the sound of a special season of my life. The years when my little ones fit on my lap. The years when they could not slip off to sleep without a story, a song, a prayer, and endless kisses and hugs. The years when Dad was the funniest man on earth. The years when Mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. The years when we were young and full of hope and fear and joy and dreams.

Those floors were a great investment.