I am a “stop and photograph the wildflowers” kind of girl.
My wife (Thank you, Washington, DC.) Kristin is a “stop and film the falcons” kind of girl.
Together, with assorted others, we are raising two amazing kids. She is shaping up to be a “stop and ask a bunch of questions” kind of girl. While he long ago established his identity as a “stop and gather random pieces of earth for your collection” kind of boy.
Last Sunday, on our way home from church (our first Sunday visit in more months than I care to count), Kristin gasped, “Kestrel falcon! Kestrel falcon! Kestrel falcon!” She loves them. She loves many, many animals, but she REALLY loves kestrel falcons. When she was a young child, as I understand it, every Christmas and birthday list included a bunch of critters and something she could kill herself on.
Kristin’s Birthday List
Irish Wolfhond (it was the biggest dog in the encyclopedia – yes, she read the encyclopedias)
Can’t you see why I love her? She’s more fun than a barrel full of capuchin monkeys.
So, out of nowhere, she whipped the car across four temporarily open lanes of traffic and parked on the side of the road to watch this thing that looked to me, for all the world, like every the other bird, and it thrilled me. I love Kristin’s willingness to follow her heart, to stop and admire and videotape that falcon for just a few moments because I believe those things we love, our passions, are full of purpose. I believe we are designed with these passions which, if we follow them, help guide us to the experiences we are supposed to have in this life.