"God, help me to make nothing fair and love my neighbor as myself." Eyes squinched shut on bottom bunk, Jack pieces together the golden rule.
"Help us to do whatever you ask," Jane adds. "Thank-you that I get to have a big family."
Across the room, Lucy pulls her thumb out of her mouth. "Jesus, thank-you that everything impossible is for the Lord. Amen."
1882. Casual conversation with Lucy, "Jack said in the playroom, if I didn't clean he would pull my ponytail out. But he forgot."
1883. The gradual ebb and flow of keeping this house tidy.
1884. How Lucy plays with my hair when we read Bibles.
1885. How Myra kisses me on the nose at breakfast.
1886. Lucy's raised eyebrows and, "I'm reading my Bible silently."
1887. And her offhand commentary on Craig, "He's a sweet man, pretty sweet to me."
1888. Jane's insight, "Hey Momma, can I tell you something that's true? It actually kind of hurts when you fall on the ice."
1889. How Jack rests his hand on my shoulder when we read Bibles.
1890. Relaxing with old high school friends.
1891. Jack bounding down the stairs, "Jane, Let's go read to each other even though it's not a school day."
1892. Peach pie and blackberry pie made all in one day in case Craig wanted birthday pie for breakfast.
1893. How even on his birthday, he makes the day perfect for me.
1894. Two hours sleeping away a headache, straight through dinner.
1895. A kiwi green candle and thank-you notes with a with a red finch on the side.
1896. A superbowl party with chili and cornbread and children run blissfully tired.
1897. Hand-me-down cloth diapers, bright primary colors for baby boy.
1898. Hand-me-down crib and clothes.
1899. Maneuvering these tired days into moments where our children pray and for all the grace of God, our flaws fall back to the shadows.