Our Take

Rory: Santa Claus is real. Darby: But did he die? Rory: You know what, Darby? We have a lot of toys. Santa Claus only gives you toys if you don't have any. But that's weird! Because he gave Ally toys and Ally has a lot of toys... (Just going on record to say I didn't tell him any of this.)

Darby: You want to play Legos with me, Lindsay?! Lindsay: (shakes head) Darby: You can play Legos. (singing) They go ooon each otherrr.

A couple weeks ago I went up to a nearby National Forest area to spend some time in prayer. One of the easiest ways I've found to kind of get past the pretension blocking up my mind and actually come to God as I am is by making up a really simple melody and then writing lyrics as fast as I can. I figure the rhymes I think of are the words closest to my mind, and seeing them on paper helps me realize where I am so I can begin the process of repentance. Anyway, here's the song that came out: How Near Is the Truth How near is the truth That is rooted in You That lies dormant in me When diversion is free? Sometimes it's not 'til I hang by a rope That I see it there. Sometimes it's not 'til I've given up hope That I see it there. 'Cause I wear lenses made of my own filth, And I drink pitchers made of my own swill. Spit in my eyes So I can see what comes out of Your mouth. Turn my drink into wine And dump all my old bottl...

These plains, Unjustly named, Roll and tumble and pitch Like ships on the sea, Like the sea, which, From the sky Glitters still and calm before the eye, But when the eye drops Trades its shine for crests and troughs. Above high plains, buttes like steeples rise And point flat heads at endless skies To break up the monotony Or glorify the sea Of grass. You see them rarely, Separated as they are By miles of prairie, Out of the way, Less accessible than the knolls of buffalo grass, Far closer to paradise.

Rory: Mama, do rhinos butt for babies? Me: What?? Rory: Do rhinos butt for babies? Me: I don't understand the question. Rory: Do rhinos butt for babies?? Me: Rory. I can't answer the question because I don't know what you're asking. Rory: Do giraffes butt for babies? Me: Do you mean butt heads? Like fight for babies? Rory: Yeah. Me: For human babies or their own babies? Rory: Their babies. Me: Ok. Then yeah, I guess they do.