A year and a half ago, my world seemed securely rooted, established, and flourishing. Our family was settled. We had figured our schooling out and carved out our niche. Our children were growing and had we had finally graduated from diapers and bibs and cribs and endless little mounds of crushed Cheerios, and I had mentally moved myself from the chaotic and unpredictable "mother of small children" category to the more stable "experienced and involved" category (not personally being able to conceive of belonging to both). We were rather comfortable. We were happy with our school curriculum, our neighborhood, our co-op, our church, and our extra-curricular activities. Yet last summer, I found myself restless, and, if I'm honest, a bit... ...well... ...bored. But that wasn't the worst of it. I felt that I had taken the reins of my life and it was all going the way I liked it. And therein lies a big problem. God ought to be holding the reins, not m