A Child's Prayer

You know, sometimes it is only in the frantic moments of our distress that we are able to see how truly faithful a child can be.

The bike we got for Sister ended up having some issues so I took it in to the store to return it and realized that the little backpack that was on the handlebars wasn't there... I had already been running all over that day and was frazzled to the core, so knowing that I had to, again, for the 4th time that day, make the same 15 minute drive home to find the backpack just wore me out even thinking about it.

When I get home I start searching for the backpack assuming that I would find it in the obvious places—on the counter, on the table, on her desk, on her bed, under her bed, on the floor under her clothes and toys, in my room, in Brother's room, in Baby's room, under the couches, under the chairs... but no.

I then recruit Marc to help me look for it under Brother's bed, in all the closets, the pantry, under the sinks, in the fridge, in all the dresser drawers throughout the entire house, in the bathtubs, in the storage room, in the garage, in the fridge in the garage, in the medicine cabinet, on top of the fridge... no.

Then we recruit Brother and Sister (I mean Sister should know where her bike pack is, right?) to come and find this lost treasure so that I can return the bike and get one that wasn't faulty. I had spent a fair amount of money that we didn't really have and I was getting stressed out that I was going to be stuck with a faulty bike.

Marc and I were getting a little more intense (you know how that goes) and nerves were getting short.

I was giving our room one last sweep and a little flustered I was briskly walking down the hall when I saw Brother sitting on the chair in the front room, eyes closed, arms folded, lips moving as he asked Heavenly Father for help.

It really touched my heart.

I hadn't once stopped to pray for help. It seemed too trivial a thing for prayer.

It was humbling to see the faith he had.

Well, I knew after that we just HAD to find the backpack. I didn't want his faith to wane.

I told Brother that I knew we would find it now. He smiled and sat in his chair watching Marc and I search the house over once again.

But, this time I felt prompted to check Sister's desk again. I had already checked it. But, I guess I'll check it again. This time I opened the little drawer in the front, the one I thought was too little for this little pack to fit in.

There it was!

In the desk drawer!

When I came out to show Brother that I had found it his face beamed.

Oh I loved it.

It just made me think, especially at this time when we are remembering the tragic day of 9/11 and all whom it affected, that if we could just have the faith of a child what a wonderful gift that would be.

I am sure that on that awful day when children were scared, had lost parents, friends or loved ones that God was there to comfort them. I am sure there were many prayers that day. To see the resilience and happiness in all the kids that  they have been showing all over the news... it is truly inspiring.

I love to hear the stories of the children talking about their heroic parents and how they take strides forward instead of letting it bring them down.

Amazing.

Children are amazing.

They are so strong.

They have a voice that deserves to be heard, by us and by God.

What a beautiful country we live in that we can worship as we want. An amazing freedom that in itself many have died for.

So many noble causes.

So many heroes in so many ways.

And yet, we forget that the same God who gave men and women the strength and will to fight for their rights and their country is also the same God who answers a child's prayer about something as small as a backpack.

While remembering the many tragedies of 9/11 let us not forget the many, many miracles—a united nation, service to our fellow man, love for our neighbor and the lives that were saved because of the sacrifices of many very brave men and women.

Harvest of Carrots and Messes

Here are my garden carrots. (I inserted my foot so you could get an idea of how big the carrots grew.)

Tee hee. So I guess you could say I have some carrots that are at least a "foot long." Ha!

And here is the mess Sister was able to make in the kitchen while I was digging, clipping, and washing said carrots.

I didn't even want to check the rest of the house...

Her First Bike

We are so proud of Sister.

We didn't even think she could do it.

I have never been able to get her to pedal a big wheel or a tricycle or anything that has pedals.

Well, I guess when she wants something bad enough, she'll take it.

Oh, and Brother wanted to show off his sweet bike that Daddy gave him.


Sister has never pedaled a tricycle before, let alone a bike. She didn't want Brother's hand-me-down red bike so we tried this one and it worked like a charm. Look at her go!

Reading Partners

I love stuff like this.

It makes the life of being Mom worth every second.

Watch Baby looking at Sister while she reads and Sister's narrative tones. Aw. And when Baby starts to join in on the reading... love kids, just love them.


My girls LOVE to read and here they are together. Something we actually see quite often.

In the Dog House and The Writing on the Wall

We went to a friends house for dinner on a Saturday night. It was so great to see them.

Baby was perfectly happy to sit in their dog's kennel... with the dog... thank goodness it was a good dog.

Sister was happy with our friends' daughters and seemed to be right in her element with them. I even felt somewhat of a comfort as I descended the stairs into the basement to check on the girls and saw dark, black "artwork" all over the walls of the stairway and all on the banister. I was "admiring" the artwork when one of my friend's daughters said, "Did you see what [Sister] did?"

"Hmm?" I questioned.

"She drew a snowman on the wall. Look," the little girl tells me.

Now instead of trying not to look too hard at the writing on the wall, I study it and see Sister's name written above all the artwork which is on both walls and the wood banister.

Cue stomach drop.

Drop.

I am mortified.

Here I am thinking that someone else's kid has done this to their own house when in fact, it was my daughter doing it so someone else's house.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhh. Oh no. Oh no," my head is frantic.

I decide (hesitantly) to go check the rest of the basement to see if any other damage had been done.

A door. Check.

A large desk. Check.

A square of floor. Check.

And a large piece of cardboard. Check.

I apologize profusely and then ask if she has a magic eraser or something to get permanent marker off the walls. I mean, this is Sister we are talking about, she doesn't just do a half job. She goes full bore.

Thankfully as I start to wipe away the writing it came off with ease...

Can I just give a shout out, right now, to the genius who invented dry erase crayons?!!!

You are so wonderful. I was able to clean off the walls, banister, door, desk and floor with ease. Time, but, ease.

I figured the cardboard would be OK with a little decoration.

Anyway, so that was that. Let's end on a good note and leave you with this little clip of Baby trying to fill her Brother's shoes:


Baby LOVES to wear everyone else's shoes...

Oh, and you want to know the other great thing to tell you about Baby. She said, "Momma," for the first time. Aaahhh. I thought I heard angels singing. She has even said "mommy," a few times. Oh, the joy of hearing your "name."

The Best Family Reunion You'll Ever See!!

OK, so I may be a bit biased, but my mom's side of the family can throw one heck of a reunion/party!

I thought we had fun at the 4th of July get-together but this was above and beyond! Way to go Uncle Brad!

There was the socializing and the eating. (Always a plus for me!)

Aw, look at my mom and dad both dressed in red. (smile)

And of course for Baby there was the dirt... she rolled in it, poured it on herself,  and slid down it. Sister too. In fact this morning when I went to put her shoes on, I dumped out at least 1/4 cup of sand out of each shoe... "Sorry, Rachael," she said with a grin. (She has been calling me Rachael a lot lately. I wish she would call me mom, but, it is funny to hear her say my name.)

Baby also had fun on the playground with Daddy.

Don't forget the hayride.

Then the horse and pony rides. (The way my kids were acting you would think we didn't have a horse in our own back yard...)

Uncle Joel took Sister out on her little ride.

Baby didn't think this little thing was as fun as her horse at home... but, W did a good job leading.

Brother was so excited when he got to help lead pony rides with my cousin (and his too, he says) W.  She was so sweet to Brother and he really had a good time hanging out with her. They are the same age.

No matter how much I rubbed at the dirt on his face, his smile definitely wasn't leaving...

Then a pie-eating contest. (Which I wanted to do but, we were getting together at Kirsten's house after for Jessie's banana cream pie and I certainly wasn't going to ruin my appetite for that—wink, wink.)

Then the cotton candy.

Next the greased pig chase. I was so excited that Brother and Sister both participated!


My favorite part is when Brother takes a bow for everyone after one of the chases is over. I think he had more fun running around the pen than actually trying to catch the pigs.



And just before we left at 6pm there was the watermelon bust...

and we left early! It was scheduled to go until 10pm!

We had pie at Kirsten's and talked for a few minutes and then headed home.

I was so proud of my kids and how well they handled the crowds and the activities. Ultimately they had a blast, but lets face it... they were overstimulated and it showed getting them to bed last night and getting ready for school this morning.

But, the smiles on their faces and the experiences they had—I know they would want to do it all over again. Sometimes a hectic evening and morning are worth the growth in the other areas of their lives.

Writing

I love writing.

It may not seem like it lately because I have only had time to jot down a few short things to help keep my journal up-to-date.

I have so much to talk about and sometimes it is just easier to put on "paper."

Isn't that interesting how paper has almost become obsolete when it comes to writing.

How long has it been since you sat down with a paper and pen and wrote a letter, a good, long, heartfelt letter to someone?

Not an email.

Or a text.

Not even a voice message.

Just a good old fashioned pen to the paper letter.

If you haven't, you should.

It feels good. There's just something about it.

I mean, I like to hear the clicking of the keys as much as anyone, but what about the "scrape, scratch" of graphite against paper.

When you write something down it's like you leave part of yourself there on the paper.

Your emotions show in the slants and curves of your handwritten letters. The intensity of the pressure of pen to paper when you are really trying to get a point across. Or the barely legible sweetness of sincerity. Oh, and some of the best letters I have ever written, or read, were the ones with tear-stains smudging letters together.

I type here at my computer and the letters appear with no feeling or personality. Just black on white letters floating in space.

I try new ways of expressing my feeling in my blogging.

S p a c i n g.

Dot, dot, dots...

(parentheses)

Capitalization.

italics.

I remember reading heartfelt letters from my mom and dad when I was off to girl's camp for a week, or even when I had been having a rough time. I would hold onto those letters and sometimes even keep them under my pillow at night so that I could read them again and again before I went to sleep.

Now I sit in the glow of my computer and read emails and facebook posts.

Has the art of writing been lost?

No.

Just changed.

But, I do hope that all of you have taken time, or will take time to send a hand-written letter to someone who needs to know how much you care about them or how much you have inspired by them. You'll be amazed at the emotions you are able to leave on the paper and how those emotions will be understood in the lost art of "writing."