Pastor's Wives Topic

I am reminded of a lighthouse resembling an iron skeleton that once stood far out at sea about eight miles east of Boston, Massachusetts. Its name was the Minot’s Ledge. The keepers inside this lighthouse always trembled when a stormy tempest swept their way and swayed their seventy-five foot home.

When our youngest child, Julia, had mastered the age of four, she was eagerly anticipating her fifth birthday. She had seen enough fifth birthdays to know it was something to look forward to. In some mysterious way, she had come to believe that 5-year-olds are BIG KIDS.

As a little girl I remember fearing that something or someone was under my bed. I found myself running and jumping into bed every night and then willing myself to hang over the bed and look under it so that I could go to sleep without fearing that something or someone was going to get me.

When we moved into our house in August 2006, the growing season was wrapping up—and there was an entire house to unpack—so our desire to plant a garden was put on hold for a while. When spring arrived the following year I could see the wheels turning in my husband’s head.