Here’s to raising boys to become men of compassion
Together we are creating a whole new culture of men who are healthy, confident and balanced. ?

Here is to raising boys who are compassionate!
“Mom, here. Hand me your bucket. I've got it," My six-year-old son said to me. We were blueberry picking in the warm summer rain at a local organic blueberry farm. My three-year-old daughter was tired and wanted me to carry her up the hill. We had picked two buckets full of blueberries and though they weren't heavy, my son could tell that I was trying to carry too much. And he wanted to help. I handed the basket over to my son. I watched his slender, strong figure take a basket in each hand, distributing the weight. I saw his growing six-year-old body walk up the hill, paving the way, lightening our load. As we walked, I “got a glimpse" of him as a grown man—seeing his aged mama and seeing how he could act with compassion. “I've got it, mom," I could imagine him saying as a grown man. But I saw his way of being with me or any woman isn't one of “dominating" or “having power over," rather it's one of deep regard, shared power and compassion. I imagined him coming into my kitchen, putting down my groceries, making us a little something to eat and still asking his mom to listen to him as he shares what's on his heart. A few tears welled up in my eyes, blending with the rain gently falling on my eyelashes and cheeks. My heart was full of awe for the boy—and man—he is becoming. My heart swelled with gratitude for my husband who is showing my son how to be a man—a man of compassion and kindness, a man of gentleness, a man who regards life in all its forms, a man who is redefining what “power" and “being a man" mean. We have been ever so intentional about raising both of our children with a counter-cultural way of defining things like “power" and “being brave."
“Mom, here. Hand me your bucket. I've got it," My six-year-old son said to me. We were blueberry picking in the warm summer rain at a local organic blueberry farm. My three-year-old daughter was tired and wanted me to carry her up the hill. We had picked two buckets full of blueberries and though they weren't heavy, my son could tell that I was trying to carry too much. And he wanted to help. I handed the basket over to my son. I watched his slender, strong figure take a basket in each hand, distributing the weight. I saw his growing six-year-old body walk up the hill, paving the way, lightening our load. As we walked, I “got a glimpse" of him as a grown man—seeing his aged mama and seeing how he could act with compassion. “I've got it, mom," I could imagine him saying as a grown man. But I saw his way of being with me or any woman isn't one of “dominating" or “having power over," rather it's one of deep regard, shared power and compassion. I imagined him coming into my kitchen, putting down my groceries, making us a little something to eat and still asking his mom to listen to him as he shares what's on his heart. A few tears welled up in my eyes, blending with the rain gently falling on my eyelashes and cheeks. My heart was full of awe for the boy—and man—he is becoming. My heart swelled with gratitude for my husband who is showing my son how to be a man—a man of compassion and kindness, a man of gentleness, a man who regards life in all its forms, a man who is redefining what “power" and “being a man" mean. We have been ever so intentional about raising both of our children with a counter-cultural way of defining things like “power" and “being brave."