Sonlight is to me something that has been steady my whole life — an outcropping of my mom and dad, people I respect, trust, and love.
Sonlight is my mom reading to us as we did school in our pjs. It's my mom sitting in her chair reading book after book, seeking the "best of the best," but looking up and setting the book down when she would see me sitting across from her wanting to talk. Sonlight is my dad reading to us, somehow reading ahead while still reading out loud, and getting so choked up he couldn't finish. And we'd be begging to know what happened. Or him falling asleep while reading out loud and taking a short nap only to wake up and say, "Now what just happened in the story?"
Sonlight is reading the Bible, and biographies, and good books. It's spelling tests with my brothers and perfect handwriting for the final verse each week. Sonlight is sitting next to my mom in the morning and curling up next to my dad in the evening.
Sonlight is my childhood. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
In high school and college, when asked about history, God, or people groups, my answers would almost always start with what I'd learned through Sonlight. Even now, the books I read call things to mind and I'm able to talk knowledgeably about history, and therefore, about what is happening in the world today.
Sonlight also established something in my family that helped me walk through trials. When things came up that were bigger than me, I had people, adults, whom I could trust. I had a brother as best friend and shoulders I could cry on. In college, when issues arose, I called my parents. They were people I could lean on. My sister sent me hand written cards every week.
Sonlight is my adolescence. A steadying influence.
As an adult, Sonlight (and my parents) helps define my passion for missions. It helps me see other people groups more clearly — to care for them. Sonlight draws a desire out of me to help others. Sonlight still makes me want to treat others with respect — to hear their side of the story. Sonlight helps me relate to others, while still having a rock I can stand on.
Sonlight for me now is the laughter of a daughter who can't get over the fact that "Tigger's don't like haycorns." The high-fives of her first read book. It's the confidence knowing that I can do this — that growing up, learning was easy. Sonlight is having things planned for me. It's flexibility. Sonlight is the small voice saying, "You've got this. You did it. You can do it. You can succeed."
Sonlight is my adulthood. And I'm thrilled with where I'm going.
May your journey with your children be blessed today,