My husband is a visionary. For years, I fought it, ignored it, and tried to change it. Why? Because, well, everyone knows what happens to the wives and children of *visionaries*...I won't mention them here because they are very scary things.
But once in a while, a visionary hatches a plan that isn't really too ridiculous, or unconventional, or scary.
Kenny likes to read the works of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. He knows that they were once friends, and would meet together here and there to chew on their ideas. They called their group of writers the Inklings. And just this winter, my visionary husband started leading a group of high school-ers from our church in a writing group. What did he call it? Not the Inklings. The Bitlings. And if you don't get that play on words, perhaps you could ask someone in the 21st century. I know I had to.
So every 3 weeks or so, we have a group of about 10-12 young adults in our home, and I feed them and occupy the younger crowd while Kenny teaches and inspires.
Can't you just hear the gears turning? Such a life we have, raising children into adults.