Sunday, February 19, 2012

Questions





"You're being like me asking Momma TWO times," Janie nods to Jack. "Sometimes I get a different answer I like better."

From around the corner, elbow deep in dishes, I take mental note. The never ending rain of questions, they're mapping my every move.








Gratitude:

1918. Jane's assessment of Psalm 139, "If you get an air tank and go to the bottom of the sea and bury yourself in the sand, God still knows where you are."

1919. Lucy trying to sound grown up, "Frow-up tastes like juice."

1920. Jack's offer, "I'll help you, Jane. I don't want you to be left out."

1921. And his commentary, "I tighten up my butt when I'm holding a toot."

1922. How I show Craig my progress on the boys' room and find the children have a fort under the baby crib.






1923. How Craig takes a vacation day and spends it taking our children on dates.

1924. Time with my mom parsing out motherhood and children, learning from someone who knows more than me.

1925. Evenings working another puzzle down by the fire, Prince Caspian audio book in the background.

1926. Baby things lent from a friend in CA.

1927. A dentist visit, teeth polished clean.

1928. A fresh shower curtain.

1929. Myra, arms raised to be held.






1930. How she shouts, "I SWALLOWED," from the dinner table when we insist she eat what was served.

1931. A day on the farm, a pot roast feast, apple crisp and a nap to draw the afternoon long. Mother-in-law who spins all things possible.

1932. A string of pearls and all the history and heritage that came with it.

1933. A birthday party for the February birthdays in the family, all the ferris wheels of conversation and carnival of children, the litany of appreciation for each birthday person.

1934. Lucy's progress as a hairdresser, "Look, I braided my bear's ears."

1935. Her birthday wish, "I want an animal that is a real animal that sprays stinky stuff."

1936. How she calls scones, STONES.

1937. How Myra shushes Lucy's doll.

1938. How Jane's suddenly taller than the light switches around the house.

1939. "I have something that I want to sell for two hundred dollars: my magnet drawing thing." Jack starting to notice how the world works.

1940. How Myra sits on my lap and whispers, "Mum-mum, hi."

1941. Learning not to fret over if I said or did the perfect thing and just step into the next moment.








holy     experience

8 comments:

Melissa @ a time for everything said...

#1941: a self-discipline that shatters self-absorption.

Goat said...

Asking twice, hoping for a different answer. My mama always said, my no means no and my yes means yes. Period. Thought I could be just that decisive until I had my son Daniel. That boy could take a fresh angle on things so easily and amiably (or not) that you almost didn't notice what was happening. Snort. What goes around comes around--he has 4 boys now.... of course, the Lord often gives you a problem to solve that you are NOT good at......

CDJ said...

always enjoy your honest beauty:)

Brandee Shafer said...

Ha! We just got a fresh shower curtain, too! What a triumph! Myra's hair glows just like my Charleigh's, but we don't have baby blues in these parts: beautiful. Did you pick a one-syllable, baby boy name?

Ashley Haupt said...

"Learning not to fret over if I said or did the perfect thing and just step into the next moment."

Oh Jesus, teach me this too.

Stephani said...

I'm glad I always have my journal with me because I just wrote Jane's quote from #1918 in my journal (giving her credit of course), not just because it's cute, but because it's truth.

Tara said...

haha, sometimes I think I ask twice too... too cute! And the vacation days spent on dates? precious!!

Amy said...

I have to laugh at #1918 and #192. TOO funny!!! Thanks for sharing