I might know a little something about saving money. I may even hold a scrap or two of travel smarts. But I will be the first to tell you I know zip, zero, zilch about raising boys.
As such, I’ve recently began reading again. In the years before reading became mountainous, monotonous, and mandatory, I could tear up a book in a day. Though the joy is still there, the time is severely lacking. But I’m making the time for important books that give me a glimpse into the weird world of boys.
One of the books that seemed worth its weight in our move to Germany was John Eldredge’s book, The Way of the Wild Heart. I’ve read his other, more famous one, but for some reason I am enjoying this book so much more. I’m three-quarters of the way through, and I’ve found something to learn from every chapter.
Though Eldredge writes man to man, he totally makes me want to climb mountains, swim in mountain lakes, camp under the stars, and grow a beard. Okay, maybe not that last one, but you get the idea.
Fortunately, the culture here in my corner of Germany is very outdoorsy. Sundays are spent outside walking, hiking, biking, skiing, etc., unless the weather is utterly atrocious. Sometimes we join in, sometimes we just want to take a really, really long afternoon nap.
But yesterday, due to a special Sunday at church that would have not been tolerated well by squirmy little wormies, we decided to take the Sunday off and go with our little men to the woods.