It would seem that I've fallen to writing about once a week. It's amazing how little interesting goes on in one's life. Our son has been sick the last couple of days. Really not himself at all. He just sleeps all day and whines and wants to held all the time. He's more of a baby than I am when I'm sick!
I think I'm a baby when I'm sick because it's the only time I feel justified in not doing anything. The problem is that everyone else tries to tell you it's not that bad and to keep doing things. I'm always doing stuff, sometimes I'd just like a break, and being sick to me means I don't need an excuse for taking a break because my body is forcing me to.
Anyways, I recently read a book called Safely Home by Randy Alcorn. It was really good, I couldn't put it down. It's fiction, based on true stories of persecution of Christians in China. Really good, I highly recommend it.
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