For many years, my jogging stroller contraption was my ticket to any sense of “silence” and “solitude.”

Those words are in quotation marks because this setting is not the true definition of either. I had to keep my expectations low, so I didn't get frustrated by inevitable interruptions.

Hours were not flying by when I had six children eight years and under, but I had it pretty good.

My babies slept in a separate room within days of being born, and most of them consistently slept through the night within a few months, though my last one pushed the envelope here.

Still, there was always the possibility of an interruption (or more) on any given night—a reality of six young children.

Once again, I am packing our trailer as we prepare for our annual fall camping trip. We will celebrate our two little boys’ birthdays, bike through leaves, and read around the campfire as we watch the season change right under our feet.

This is my favorite trip of the year!

I am about to listen to the Lab I:68 podcast like I do every Monday as I fold laundry, but I am a little nervous as this time I will be hearing my own voice chatting on the other end—weird.

We did not expect to tear up last Sunday night during out final session of LAUNCH into the teen years. The last scene, around a campfire, spoke to the amazing gift of sex and marriage within godly boundaries.

We so deeply desire this joy and freedom for our children and our hearts ached with this hope and prayer as we closed out the session.

I know—sharpened pencils and crisp books tease. Maybe this year we can do all the things and with happy hearts!  Experiments and reports.  Poetry tea time with homemade muffins.

Then history haunts us with our dark moments.

Whether at home, at school, or some new hybrid:

Impatience blending letter sounds, frustration long dividing, confusion logging in, and despair sopping up toddler disasters or a teen’s tears...