In 1994, God dumped an entire bottle of Mrs. Dash on our family. Ok our life was pretty spicy before, but really? A whole bottle?
Ok get out the shaker.
Shake 1. Picture the late 80’s. My parents had two teenage boys, a dog named Melon (she was a collie..get it?!) and a herd of 250 dairy cows in Northwest Wisconsin. Fairly normal right?
Shake 2,3,& 4. Basically overnight, my dad went from pasture Bob…to pastor Bob. The family sold the entire herd of cows, packed the house up in a rental truck and moved 700 miles to good old Ohio. Goodbye sun-up to sun-down milking, and hello preacher family stereotypes (you know, the pastor who gives 72 second chances, the pastor’s wife that makes great casseroles, and the pastor’s kids…well my brothers were saints compared to most.)
Shake 5 & 6. So the family seems pretty normal still. In 1991, God decided a couple more shakes on the hearty family was a brilliant idea… they got me! Ok it may be a little vain to give myself two shakes but you gotta admit, when your parents are at the prime of their mid-life crisis years and your older brothers are old enough to be your father, yeah that’s a little zesty.
And this is when the cover comes off of that perfectly concocted mix of decadent seasoning. On a cold winter day in February (Well I’m guessing it was cold, but I was only two years old so what do I know). My smiley little brother was brought into the world. He was perfect in God’s image, but a swat on the butt in the world’s eyes. Levi had a flat little nose, tiny ears, and a little thing the doctors call Down’s syndrome.
So this is the point when you’re saying, what?! God that was way too much! Nope, he says, I have a plan and unless it’s rich, it’s not gonna work. And on goes our zingy..and quirky, family adventure.