I watch her feet
Small, delicate feet
Gently touching the grass
The ends of her dress
Barely kissing her knees
She's dreaming of flying

Summer is ending,
September is coming
She cherished each day
And second they shared
I know I will hurt her
And I know that she knows

She won't blame me
She knew the risk
But seeing her hold his hand
I can't help but sigh
She won't get over this wound
Nobody else will do

Innocence was all I knew / ‘Cause all I had to know was you —“Eden” by Phil Wickham

Dear Homeschooling Friends,

The word "innocence" and the phrase "respect for innocence" have been in my thoughts during the last two weeks. In fact, they have been with me ever since I wrote innocence in as one of the inspirations for apricotpie on the about page. At first my thoughts turned toward what innocence does not mean to me. But later I began to hear it in a different way. This is how it is coming to me now:

What once was is no more. What happened to who I was? I've changed so much that sometimes I don't recognize myself, yet lingering still is the young boy I once was.

I’m sitting outside in our driveway on an old beach chair while my four-year-old brother plays in his turtle sandbox. The sun is warm, but the air is decidedly March-like—crisp and cold; the chilly kind, that gets inside you—and I’m sitting here with a hood over my head wondering what on earth I’m doing out here and how Joseph can bear having nothing on his feet. Maybe the sand is warm. Maybe he’s warmer, somehow. Maybe there’s something in us when we’re young that’s still half-full of Heaven.