After a long day of seesawing emotions, rivers of tears, and volcanic tantrums, my son was exhausted. I read him a story and tucked him in bed for the night. Amidst the crowd of his favorite blankets and cuddly stuffed animals, I squeezed in on the bed next to him.

I was disappointed by our difficult day and at my own failures to help him through it. I have learned that it is often in the quiet darkness, wrapped warm in his blue and red fire truck quilt, surrounded by all his favorite items, that his heart is most tender and his soul most bare. I snuggled with him, hoping to speak to him about the challenges of the day… to read the rest of this post, visit The Gospel Coalition, my writing home today.