My son called me the other day. He is the one who is the architect of what is seen here. For my birthday he gave me the link that brings people here. I admit that at first I didn’t realize what I was receiving from him. As he worked, reworked and developed the visuals it occurred to me that he was putting in hours of time to make it look nice. I called him and told him how grateful I was. He told me that he really wanted it to look great because my written content was mediocre at best. Thanks Nick.

As I was saying he called me and told me that I should consider answering the question of why. Why I write this stuff? He gave me an example. He told me that people have blogs about all kinds of things. If someone is into chocolate, they may start a blog about chocolate. He asked me why someone would start a blog about such a thing. My response was that I supposed they really had a passion for…..or loved chocolate. I told him I would do my best to concisely answer the question of why. But I already knew why I do this. I was completely unprepared to answer when he asked me so I told him I would think about it…work on it. I don’t think he really knows what he asked for.

When the Israelites left Egypt they wandered in the desert for forty years. On many occasions in the desert God helped them. After the event God often instructed them to erect small monuments to commemorate his intervention….assistance….deliverance….provision or rescue. God instructed them to build these monuments so that when their children asked them what this or that monument was for they could tell their children of God’s greatness and how he helped them.

Some months ago I had a conversation with my son on his driveway. The driveway is where men discuss important matters. He and his wife were living through the worst of circumstances and we were both upset. He told me some stuff that I will not forget. He felt like he didn’t really know me. He felt that I kept a tight lid on my emotions. He told me that he wanted to talk to me more because he wanted to know me better. In the moment I didn’t understand what any of that meant. I’m his dad….he’s my son….of course he knows me. He knows me as well as anyone. Later on as I processed this information I think I began to understand what he was telling me….what he was asking of me. I think he wants to know who I am beneath the surface. I’m thinking he wants to know my heart. There is probably some truth about my emotional restraint before him and others. But my oldest son and my other children have never seen me on my knees before God praying for them.

This is the why. These things I write…these notes….these letters are my small monuments to God. They tell the story of how he won me….how he rescued me. Maybe one day a child of mine may ask me: “Who are you? I want to know you better….more deeply.” If I am to be known then look at the monuments….read the letters…the letters to my children. They tell the story of who I am….or come by the house. I’m always home.