The Thundering Herd

We spent four days in Portland getting to hold and pray over baby Abram. The three other kids were highly mobile and total individuals (especially Brynne) and we have many memories. It was suggested I pass along a few of the incidents, especially those with Jonah. I was goofing with him prior to dinner and he got in trouble and sent to his room. After a while I went up and offered to take his place in a substitutionary justice since I was partly responsible. To that Jonah said he had done wrong and deserved the punishment and would not let me substitute. I thought, how mature for an eight year old.
We stayed in the basement, and each morning we awoke to what I call the thundering herd; the sound of the kids tromping across the floor above us.
I was especially touched the last evening. I said goodbye to each of the kids in turn. When I got to Jonah he told me thank you, especially for tussling with him. He said he was trying not to cry because we were leaving. And somewhere in the mix he uttered, "I want to grow a moustache." He made this grandfather's day. You go for it Jonah!