The Dutch Rush

They're Dutch and Life's a Rush

He still looks like this in my head.


Maybe that’s why I’m sometimes stunned to look up and see this:


I have never known anyone to be so much like their dad. They both think one of the funniest things in the world is playing jokes on me. Or trying to tickle me. Or sneaking up on me. Or jumping out at me.


Yes, there he is, photo bombing.

I guess that’s okay with me…I like his dad.


I was thinking about this post yesterday (on his birthday) as I was vacuuming the living room. I heard an evil giggle behind me and turned around to see Josh laughing at his camera. Yeah. He’d been taking pictures of me vacuuming under the tree. Not flattering. He assured me he would delete them. He knows I will forget to make sure he does.

He is always thinking and planning and making things. He brings joy. I thank God for that joy.


He also tells me what to do.

“Mom, why would you read a book on how to clean your house? Don’t you already know how to clean your house?”

“Mom, that is not how you make a fire. Here, let me make it for you…”

I think I’m use to it, with four people in this house telling me what to do. Good grief.


He makes things. Around the house there is paper and tape and scissors and glue and paper clips and markers and bits of tape and bits of paper and bits of cardboard, and string…


He just snuck up on me for some more pictures. Who got that child a camera anyway? No one should have this many awful pictures taken of them.

He loves his Saviour. He wants to tell his friends about Him. He begged us to buy them Bibles. He doesn’t want anyone to go to hell. We talk a lot about that. Sometimes I listen while he talks, sometimes I talk while he gets ready to tell me the next thing…

I am grateful for a Josh to live life with. He’s not perfect, and neither am I. But boy do I love him.100_2565


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