An Ordinary Abundant Life
The moving van was almost full. We walked around the house, a ragtag collection of movers, some as young as eight, picking up the few things that were left inside. Every room felt bigger and echoed in a strange way as it was emptied. I looked down at little Brylen, the oldest of his family, the philosopher, the theologian. We call him “Brother Brylen” because he loves God’s word and will occasionally take his mom’s phone to a quiet room and record himself preaching a sermon. He’s nine, and he’s precious.






