welcome

Tiffany is a poet. Every once in a great while, she stands up at church and reads something she wrote. They are far and away my favorite Sundays. But it only happens once or twice a year.

Kendyl and I have been having lengthy conversations about her organization, NomoGaia, since I moved to Colorado in 2011. For a long time, I just understood it as her traveling the world and advocating for human rights. She would tell me about specific, politically charged projects and I would stop her every couple sentences to have her define a word or explain an event. She always spoke so passionately, but I was always overwhelmed by her knowledge. 

There are some kinds of news that you wish you could just whisper. It might be the most exciting thing in the whole world, maybe a huge personal achievement. But that’s it: when it’s personal, 500 words just don’t seem adequate. I wish I could just whisper to you, “Hey, wanna see this thing I did?” And then I would like to hover over your shoulder creepily and watch your reaction to see what makes sense to you and what doesn’t, what you like and what you don’t. But hitting the publish button, releasing this beast to the world, sitting back, and just waiting? Ugh…radio silence. It’s terrifying. 

Holly, the lone, beautiful lady in these photos, is a dear friend of mine. She has the unusual and unbelievably demanding job of living with four boys. Well, three boys and a man. A man who asked if I could make him look like Tom Cruise.

(Josh, you don’t need to look like Tom Cruise. Ya look great.)

I’ve thought about writing this post countless times. And I still have no idea where to even begin with this incredible story.

We’ve been going to church with the Reeds, Greg and Tori, for about three years. And though we didn’t know them very well for the first two years, we’ve been privileged, as part of our church body, to hear their story and walk alongside them on an unbelievable journey throughout the past year.

My parents have a longish driveway…it’s about 1/10 of a mile. We moved there when I was nine and I can honestly say that when I think of being home, I think of the driveway. Whenever the house got too overwhelming, whenever I fought with anyone or got upset, I would go outside and either play or walk on the driveway. I used it my entire life as a tool. I gave myself 1/10 of a mile to get over it. And if 1/10 of a mile wasn’t enough? I turned around and went again.