The week after Thanksgiving Pastor Randy preached about Zechariah and Elizabeth. It was a birth announcement brought by an angel to a skeptical old man who’d be keeping the secret to himself until it became too obvious to hide. I sat there at church listening to the story and chuckling to myself. It must be the season for keeping secrets about babies. I’ve known since Thanksgiving. And you can’t imagine the countless conversations perfect for sharing such a secret. Coworkers

Our Christmas card photo will be perfect this year. And it’s not only the genius of my photographer daughter-in-law, although this...

(Photo credit to Kiana Anderson – kianagrantphotography.com) Half Dome was their dream, but I was the one to win the lottery. The first...

The sermon on Sunday was just for Jimmy. And of course, for me, too. After all, it was Randy A’s message, and of all the pastors he’s the one who’s known our story best, and cheered for us longest. He was the first pastor I told about adopting, and from the very beginning he knew how hard it would be – knew it better than we did. Most likely he thought we were crazy, even though he didn’t say it. He just said he’d pray. So earlier this summer when it was Jimmy going to McAlle

(Photo credit to Karen McDermott) When Nils was a little guy he spent hours every summer at the ball field, watching his brothers play....

Jimmy got to practice being a parent this week. For two days he carried around the fake baby from health class. It’s a computer-programmed experiment designed to convince teens they are not ready to be moms and dads and it probably does the trick. But come on, teachers. It’s nearly the end of the quarter and my son hasn’t slept in two straight nights. This boy’s already logging detention hours all week long from too many tardies – almost solely the fault of a particular broth

I’ve been thinking about this more often than not these past couple of weeks. Ever since it came up in the teaching videos we’ve been showing to our students on Sunday mornings. And truth be told the kids don’t really seem to be into it. We draw blank stares whenever we ask the questions. What does it mean that we’re part of this upside-down kingdom? Yes, what does it mean? Forget the kids and ask myself. What does it mean? Living with a houseful of teenaged boys can feel pre

Jimmy was working on a history assignment not long ago, answering a question about authority. Which is more effective, fear or love? They were talking about governments I suppose, but my own thoughts went to life and faith and to me it was a no-brainer. And then in the days to come the boys were sharing more of their own stories. About how in Colombia they used to labor hard. Doing their chores. Meeting demands. And I’m curious about how that worked because getting boys to do

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

We’re celebrating a birthday today. Nils is eighteen, and yes, this is the official age of adulthood in 47 states, including ours. We discussed this over lunch at Applebee’s, and I Googled it later, acquiring a very interesting assortment of facts on the topic. Wikipedia says this: It is the moment when minors cease to be considered children and assume legal control over their persons, actions, and decisions, thus terminating the control and legal responsibilities of their pa

“Jimmy Anderson scored the winning goal in last night’s game!!!” Jimmy came into my room first thing this morning suggesting I start today’s post this way. He’s still pretty fired up about his header in last night’s section play-in. A sweet start to the post-season for sure. The boy also said I should mention the Psalm he read, at my suggestion. Yesterday morning when he stopped by my room to check things out in my full-length mirror. I happened to be in my favorite psalm, an

I was backing down my driveway this morning when I caught sight of the flowers on my porch. Rats. They needed water, but would have to wait. I already used my margin vacuuming the grass trail through the kitchen left by somebody’s soccer shoes. Driving toward church I had an idea. Maybe Siri could help. I held down the button and spoke into my phone. “Schedule a reminder for 3:30pm.” Siri responded. “What would you like to remember?” I grinned and answered. “Water plants.” Do

“Mom, I’m wrecked” – is what Jimmy said as he limped his way up the stairs Friday morning. He’s always the first one up, an early riser this boy. But that morning he was done in, aches and pains from head to toe. Too much soccer, probably – not that it stops him. He loves the sport too much. That same morning, not much later, my cell phone rang and it was Kyle. Wrecked, too. Out in Colorado with Grant and Kiana and Luke. The four had road-tripped out mid-week with plans to at

I wasn’t so sure about the cabin at first. Seven years ago when all the Andersons decided to rent the little shack on Spectacle Lake, I was a skeptic. And with good reason. That first summer there was no electric and no plumbing; just an outhouse full of spiders and full of you-know-what. And that first summer, too, was fraught with disaster from the get-go. Every week it seemed there was a story to tell, and never good. Kyle pulled a hamstring trying to ski like a kid, a leg

I was walking with my friend earlier this week. Michelle is my BFF from college days, my everything buddy for many years. Bridesmaids in weddings, preschool playgroups, kids as classmates, trips to the cabin, a mountain vacation – we’ve been there and done that, and more. She was even my boss for a season. And in spite of the fact that we live in suburbs touching each other, it had been over a YEAR since we’d been together. Until finally a couple of weeks ago it struck me jus

Somewhere on a mountain near Colorado Springs a boy becomes a man today. Of course it’s been happening gradually for a good long time. In some ways this kid was born a little man. He’ll read this post a couple of days from now when he returns from his last RMC of the summer. I imagine he’ll spend some time at The Glen. He’ll sit under an umbrella out on the terrace drinking espresso, using up punches on his coffee card before summer’s end. Connected to wifi he’ll catch up on

It is right for me to feel this way about you, since I have you in my heart… (Philippians 1:7) My sweet sister and her family of five are settling this summer into their new home. It’s a house with a pool on Pelican Lane, and being there in July is like being on vacation. I asked her last evening, all of us Andersons showing up for a swim – Are there this many people here all the time? And she confirmed what I thought. More often than not. They moved in June and they’re stil

[kuh n-sohl] verb (used with object), consoled, consoling. to alleviate or lessen the grief, sorrow, or disappointment Which is exactly what happened. Our boys and all of us were indeed. Consoled. And all that grief, that deep disappointment was lessened to almost forgetting. They were the Consolation Champions. Nils and the Legacy Lions. Winning 2 games out of 3 at the state baseball tourney. In the end, it was awesome. But the road to victory started with a crushing loss. I

Luke called today. Kyle and I were both working from home, so we put him on speakerphone and soaked up the sound of his voice. All good news, and he’s doing great. Luke is spending most of his summer off the grid, leading “excursions” in the mountains of Colorado. Felipe and Jimmy don’t like it. As they have stated, more than once, this brother of theirs is stupid. And they’re totally serious. But in this case stupid doesn’t mean what it normally means. This isn’t the stupid

Mom, you should put this picture on your blog. Jimmy tells me this every so often about his silly-faced pictures. Today’s your day, Jimmy. I’m writing about crazy. You Make Me Crazy. It’s the name of this month’s message series at church. The ideals and ordeals of family life. And that about sums it up. Tuesday night was one of those. Ideal and ordeal both. Felipe stayed home from soccer practice to finish a painting for his Capstone Project. He greeted me with a smile as soo