We were that “Church family.” House decorated for liturgical seasons, seven children, family service projects, music lessons, chore charts, family meetings and retreats, on our third copy of Prayers for the Domestic Church.

Like other dutiful and thoughtful dads and moms on the road, I frequently returned from trips with treats for our children. When they were young, these gifts were expected. It was what they asked about as soon as I arrived home. Often their interest was stated in an almost formulaic question: What did you bring us?

When our son was seven, I held his hand as we walked on a frozen road with his little brothers when he broke away from me and ran ahead. He was so quick, I could only watch in terror and call out, “Wait! Be careful!” By the grace of God he was safe, but it was a defining moment for me as a mother. I realized I wouldn’t be able to protect him forever.