I think of moments when laughter fills my home, like listening to my daughter and son trade sly, quick jokes at the dinner table. Those playful roasts crack me up every time. I laugh because I’m proud; it tells me they feel safe to be themselves. Yet when the house grows quiet and I’m alone, questions rise: Am I truly being the man God created me to be? Am I leaving a legacy my children can build on? Why can I see God’s fingerprints everywhere, yet struggle to hear His voice clearly?