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Every day that my son, Henry, and I walk to school is an opportunity to see. Henry is my Nature Boy, the one who gets his boots (and pants and coat and gloves) muddy, gleefully. He’s the one who spends hours in the woods with his friend making forts and finding toads.

The last thing I wanted to do at twenty-three years old was start over.   My life had been all planned out—I met the boy I wanted to marry when I was sixteen, we got married in college while I was finishing my degree in education, and then I got the teaching position I wanted. We bought a house, we were involved in a small group at church, and I could picture what our future kids would look like when they came into our lives in the scheduled three to five years from then.