Posts Categorized: Gentleness

Magnolia

| Gentleness, Goodness

Dictionary.com defines “phenomenon” as: a remarkable person, thing, or event. That’s what Magnolia is, in case you’ve been living under a rock. (“Living under a rock” is defined as “To be unaware of things that most people know about.”)

Okay, I know that many, many people in this country are most certainly unaware of MAGNOLIA, but, based on the number of folks who are showing up regularly in Waco, it seems significant. I was recently in the Magnolia parking lot, and, I’m sorry to admit, I didn’t pay attention to the license plates. I do know that the people who were with me are from Seattle, so, if there had been a daily contest for “came farthest,” we might have won.

 

 

 

I don’t know how many employees are needed to create the well-organized, well-tended, grounds of Magnolia, but the restrooms are spotless, and if there is a dead leaf somewhere, it surely gets picked up and tossed into a well-hidden compost area. Every employee is gracious and helpful. An example: Last week, when I went with my sister and niece, we went first to the bakery and ordered some cookies. This past Wednesday, I went back, because I’d neglected to take any photographs, and I needed photographs. I stopped in at the bakery for a cookie. The young man who took my order looked at me and said, “Do I know you? You look familiar to me. Are you from Waco?” And I said, “Well, I was here last Wednesday.” “Oh, yeah,” he said.  “I knew you looked familiar.”  That’s paying attention to detail.

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Whether you like (or LOVE) to shop, or whether you just like to wander around, or whether you like to try all kinds of foods, Magnolia might just be the perfect getaway for you. It’s not hard to locate in downtown Waco. There are those HUGE silos. You can hardly miss them.

A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her  and lacks nothing of value.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Proverbs 31: 10 and 11, and 30 and 31

 

It’s true, more women are apt to enjoy Magnolia than most men. But, it’s very family friendly. There’s something for almost everyone.

 

I Think I Might Have a Stalker

| Gentleness, Kindness, Patience, Peace

I like to work outside. The weather’s nice right now, and there are fall-ish things to do, and I think that working in the yard is good for me, from a physical standpoint and a mental standpoint, too.

I enjoy the flora.

 

I like the fauna.

Last week, I was working in the back yard, trimming some lower hanging limbs in a space where I have a garden bench.

This is a nice shady spot and is particularly pleasant this time of year, when the temperatures are lower (much less sweatier) and I can sit and read. As I was trimming and neatening up the area, a bird flew by me and landed on that larger limb that’s running across the top of the photograph. Yes, right there in front of me. I took a step toward that limb and the bird just sat there, as if challenging me to bother him. I was amazed. I took another step forward. He cocked his head and turned and flew . . . to that next limb, as if to imply that, yes, he saw me, but he wasn’t at all bothered that I was right there!

He wasn’t somebody’s pet parakeet. He was a wild bird. He should have, I thought, been much more reluctant to be anywhere near me. Maybe someone else in the neighborhood feeds birds, and he just assumed that all of those big folks are regularly handing out treats.

I lopped off a couple more limbs, then gathered up my tools and walked up to the patio at the back of the house. And then, and I am not making this up, he followed me.

 

 

Apparently, he’s gotten bored with it all. I’ve been outside a couple of days this week, and I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s marshaling his forces and planning to return at some point, with reinforcements. I’ll send updates if he shows up again.

 

How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—
a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Psalm 84:1-3 (New International Version)

Hmmm. I’ve been saying “him,” but it might be “her.” Maybe I should be more charitable, and remember that having a home, a nest, a safe place, is universally important.

Breath of Heaven

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

Two or three times a year, my church publishes a devotional book, for Advent, for Lent/Easter, for support for teams of church members on mission trips, and other occasions. Church members are asked to write devotionals for the booklets, and sometimes I’m asked to write one. This year, for Advent, our assignment was to choose a favorite Christmas carol and a scripture passage, and to write a devotional based on our experience with those things. This is the one I wrote, inspired by the song Breath of Heaven. The song’s title has the link to  Amy Grant’s singing the song.

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I trust you to save me, Lord God, and I won’t be afraid. My power and my strength come from you, and you have saved me. Isaiah 12:2 (Contemporary English Version)

Breath of Heaven

We have a niece who had a baby about a year and a half ago. While her husband rushed into the hospital’s emergency room to get a wheelchair for her, she gave birth to their third child, a baby boy, in the front seat of their vehicle. Now there’s a birth story.

The birth story Mary has to tell is pretty impressive, too. Well, more impressive, I guess. After all, it is Jesus.

There’s not much detail about Mary, herself, in the Bible. If you go online, there’s lots of information about her, but it’s all pretty much speculation.

I do wonder, though, if Jesus ever said to her, “Please tell me about the night I was born.” It’s not a matter of his not knowing all the facts, but I like to think that he would appreciate hearing her tell the story.

(He listens and responds. As she narrates the tale, she’s also pondering about her own feelings and struggles.)

 

“Oh, Mother! An angel? Were you surprised? Were you scared?”

         Holy father you have come
         And chosen me now to carry your son

“And Aunt Elizabeth, too? Cousin John? Really?”

         Must I walk this path alone?
         Be with me now

“I remember hearing about that census. All the way to Bethlehem. Quite a trip.”

         Lighten my darkness
         Pour over me your holiness

“No place to stay? Then what happened?

         Do you wonder as you watch my face
         If a wiser one should have had my place

“Shepherds came all the way into town? That was a hike!”

         Help me be strong
         Help me be
         Help me

“What was the hardest part for you, Mother?”

         Breath of heaven
         Lighten my darkness
         Pour over me your holiness
         For you are holy
         Breath of heaven

“You are the bravest woman I know, Mother. I am grateful that you were willing to do what you were asked to do.”

 

 

Reflection
You may have heard two people tell the “same” story, but from really different points of view. This holiday season, think about spending time with friends and relatives that you think you know pretty well. Listen to their stories and appreciate how the details may be different from the way you might remember those occasions.

 

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(We writers are asked to include some bio information. This is what I wrote: My sister was born the October that I was 4 1/2 years old. My mother says that, that December, I would drape small baby blankets over my head and shoulders and wander around the house, stopping at each room, and shaking my head and muttering “No room. No room. No room.” Then, I would erect my toy ironing board, drape IT with blankets, and sit under it, holding a doll. Apparently I would do that for hours, leaving her free to take care of the new baby in the house.

 

They’re Just Birds, After All

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Peace

We’ve had some problems around here, over the months and years, with birds. City birds. Grackles. For several years, they’ve been congregating, especially in the evenings, around intersections where there’s lots of traffic and lots of people, especially in places where people are having fast food and leaving crumbs. And dropped French fries. And crusts of buns. Etc.

I think all the instinctive behavior of eating, like finding worms and bugs, has given way to the easy route of people food. I don’t know what the biological issues are. Maybe they’re just as healthy, living on a diet of food from McDonald’s and Wendy’s and Jack in the Box. It seems like not, but they’re thriving, from a population standpoint. This is not a phenomenon I recall from my childhood, or even my kids’ childhoods. But, it’s certainly part of Peter’s childhood.

My local grocery store, years ago, planted attractive trees at the ends of the rows of parking spaces closest to the store’s doors. They didn’t provide much shade, but they looked nice, and, in time, they might have made some shade. But, after a few years, the grocery store folks cut them down. There was a whitewash of bird poop under all the trees, and also on cars that had parked at the ends of the rows. Messy and unattractive. There are some trees growing at the farthest ends of some of the rows. And, I do park there, in the heat of the summer. It’s an acceptable trade-off for me. I have to walk through the heat, and I might have to clean off the windows, but at least the car’s not scorching hot, May through September, when I get in with my groceries.

Lack of lots of trees doesn’t mean that the birds have left the area. Nope. They have not conceded.

Here’s what those annoying, pesky birds do instead. As soon as the sun gets close to the horizon, they gather themselves up, from whatever fast food restaurants they’ve been hanging around, and arrange themselves on the utility wires. And they sit there. Until the sun goes down. If you watch them for a while, you’ll see that a few of them fly away, or swoop around, and then settle back into place. If there is an empty space, a bird will drop down into it. If a bird tries to land in a space that’s not really big enough (from the birds’ reckoning), the other birds won’t give up their place. The interloping bird will have to fly away, swoop around, and find a new settling place. But, for the most part, they just sit there. Staring down at the humankind, driving, walking, jogging down below. It’s been like this for years, but it still seems creepy to me. Many years ago, I was driving my dad home after a dinner together. I commented on the precise spacing between the birds. (And, my dad passed away more than ten years ago, so, again, not a new thing the birds are doing.) Daddy looked at them carefully and said, “I suppose it’s the amount of space that they need to take off.” That does seem right, doesn’t it?

 

Meanwhile, when Peter was here a month or so ago, I was driving him to the Baylor area to meet David for their Thursday evening “Late Night at the Mayborn” museum rendezvous. We drove through Chick-fil-a to get them some dinner, and there are many fast food places in the area. So, of course, birds were gathering on the wires for their eveningtime meet-and-greet.

“Look, Mimi,” Peter said, calling my attention to the CVS pharmacy sign. “There are so many birds, I think they’re going to fall off.”

Indeed. Pharmacy birds apparently do not need the same amount of space for perching as do the other birds. Or, maybe, as Peter suggested to me, it’s just warmer up on that lighted sign than it is on the wires.

 

 

Look, if you sold a few sparrows, how much money would you get? A copper coin apiece, perhaps? And yet your Father in heaven knows when those small sparrows fall to the ground. You, beloved, are worth so much more than a whole flock of sparrows. God knows everything about you, even the number of hairs on your head. So do not fear.

Matthew 10:29-31 (The Message)

And I guess I’m also supposed to consider what it means that I am worth so much more than a whole flock of sparrows. If I’m worth that much, then so are each and every one of my brothers and sisters who are walking in this world.

Christmas Perfect, or Christmas Memorable

| Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

If all your Christmases run smoothly, and everything’s perfect–just like it was so carefully planned, how do you remember one Christmas from another? Do they just blur together, in one big holiday collage of red and green and a tree and lights?

Not at our house. We live in RealWorldLand, where the best laid plans stay lying around, being balky and uncooperative, which means that we are often, at holiday time, remembering previous disasters/missteps/etc. Like, “Remember the time Mom put Snickers bars in the toes of our Christmas stockings, and we had the fire going on Christmas Eve and on Christmas morning, and when we dug the candy bars out, they were all melted in their wrappers?” Stuff like that. Nothing particularly serious. Just memorable.

Jeremy and Sarah arrived the Friday before Christmas, from New York. They rented a car and drove to Waco from DFW airport. (Even though Jeremy really appreciates the public transportation in New York, he seems to have missed, a little bit, being able to drive.) We had a pretty relaxing time, doing some cooking (there were still some apples left over from Halloween, and they crafted some homemade applesauce, which was yummy, and for Christmas dessert, they made Apple Crisp). Memorable.

Jeremy dug through the game closet and pulled out games to play.

Jeremy and Sarah and I played a round of Ticket to Ride. Then we played again with David. I was in last place, seriously in last place, both times. Then, we played again with Kevin. I won. By a lot! Which proves that, while a little bit of skill is important, luck plays a significant part in this game. Memorable.

Also memorable this year, April wasn’t able to come. Peter had been sick, but was well enough to come (if you don’t count that fact that his ears were still stopped up and he often appeared to be ignoring us). April, however, was pretty sick, missed her own family’s celebration, and stayed in Fort Worth. We’ll remember that Christmas without April, but we hope it doesn’t happen again.

As I planned and prepared for Christmas dinner, I kept thinking, “Oh, I should have  . . . .” And I bought the ingredients. (And, I had actually baked and sliced two small turkey breasts for Christmas dinner ‘way back right after Thanksgiving, and put them in the freezer. Unusually ahead of time.) Quite memorable.

Kevin and Peter were arriving late afternoon on  Christmas, and we were cooking and getting ready for a good part of the day. The counter just kept getting more and more crowded. Just as I was putting some of the final dishes out, I suddenly felt really weak and shaky. I plopped into the rocking chair in the kitchen and said, “My blood sugar’s low.” “What do you need? What do you need!” “Juice,” I said. “There’s white grape juice in the fridge door.” They brought it over, and kept putting out food and arranging things. The turkey was heating up in the oven, and they kept asking what else was supposed to be out and where was it. Finally, it was just the turkey that needed to come out.

Some nice, sliced turkey pieces, lying artfully amid the glass pie plate shards.

 

Jeremy picked up the glass pie pan that was holding the turkey slices and carried it to the serving area. About three inches away, the pan slipped from the pot holder in his hand and crashed to the floor. Turkey and glass shards everywhere. Fortunately, some of the turkey was still in the oven. On another pie plate.

Jeremy looked down at the mess and said, “Was that plate special?” “Well,” I admitted. “It belonged to my mother … but I have the other one. There’s another one!” There was enough turkey for everyone (well, for the everyone who’s not vegetarian). Pretty memorable.

 

The kids worked on a desk/bookshelf for David’s office. Then they erected a small enclosed (plastic) greenhouse sort of thing, for me to use to keep my plants safe during the winter. Mem.Or.A.Ble!

And some things aren’t all that memorable; they’re just traditions that we like to keep up!

We went to the Christmas Eve service. Maybe we won’t remember the exact details a few months from now, but it was good to see family members who have come back for the holiday to visit. It was good to sit in the dark with my own family, and hear the songs and the story. It was good to see the candlelights all around the room. It was memorable.

 

Mary, too, pondered all of these events, treasuring each memory in her heart.

Luke 2:19 (The Voice)

Wishing you many memorable moments to treasure in your heart.

 

…By Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace, Self-Control

Possibly there are folks out there who don’t recognize this partial quote. (The title of this post) It’s Shakespeare, from the play Romeo and Juliet. The longer quote is:
“What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;”

The speaker is Juliet, and she’s unhappy that the young man with whom she’s recently fallen in love is from a family on the outs with her family. Her point being that his last name doesn’t matter; she loves him anyhow, in the way that the scent of a rose is going to smell just as nice, even if we called it, for example, “stench-plant.”

The name “Romeo” has come to mean a lover, a ladies’ man, etc. (you can look it up). I don’t know what Shakespeare meant by it; maybe it was just a common name in those days.

But … moving on. A while back, I kept reading in the newspaper’s television page about the program TURN, the story of George Washington’s spy ring during the Revolutionary War. Like: “Tonight on TURN, the spy ring finds a new ally.” That sort of thing. Finally, during season 4 (the final season), I got interested and discovered that the library had DVDs of the first three seasons. (Yes, I know. We’re archaic. My kids think we’re ridiculous because we don’t have Hulu.) I watched all those videos and then watched the fourth season on the AMC website.

Then I found, also at the library (how old-fashioned am I!), an audiobook edition of the book Valiant Ambition: George Washington, Benedict Arnold, and the Fate of the American Revolution. I’m listening to it. All 13 hours and 19 minutes of it. I’m a little more than halfway through it, but sometimes I have to go back and start a chapter anew. When I’m listening to an audiobook, I’m almost always doing something else, like working in the yard or doing housework, and, at some point, I realize that I’ve been thinking about herbs and not paying attention to patriots, and I have to skip backwards a little bit. And, for this one, a book of Revolutionary War maps would have helped. And a complete list of all the characters. And which side they were on.

Which brings me to Benedict Arnold. The only thing I knew, and pretty much still know, about Benedict Arnold is that he was a traitor during the American Revolution. I think that may be all that most of us know. And some of us probably don’t know that much. But the name means “traitor.” As in: “That which we call Benedict Arnold, by any other name would still be a traitor.” Even knowing more about him and the positive things he did during the Revolutionary War (before he changed his mind about us), he’s still famous/infamous for trying to sell us down the river, almost literally, and would have, if the plot hadn’t been discovered. And the British guy he was working most closely with, John Andre, got captured and hanged. Arnold slipped away and got himself to a British ship and fought with those guys until the end of the war. And then, afterward, in England, tried to stir up things anew! Give it up, Ben!

It’s interesting, at least to me, maybe you, too, that there are names out there, that, when bestowed at birth may just have been names that parents liked, but they’ve come to mean something that no one might have imagined. Like Benedict Arnold. Like Adolph Hitler. Like Benito Mussolini. Like Josef Stalin. Like Caligula.

And there were other names, that have come to mean something that the name-givers (or name-takers) might not have expected. Or, maybe they thought, all the time, that those named would become so significant. Like Mother Teresa. Mohandas Gandhi. Martin Luther. Marie Curie. Johann Sebastian Bach. Alexander Graham Bell. Anne Frank. Francis I.

A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. (New International Version)

A good reputation and respect are worth much more than silver and gold. (Contemporary English Version)

Proverbs 22:1

 

I guess “a good reputation” is what scripture means by “a good name.” Our actions, our behavior, and our attitudes, are what make our “names” good.

 

 

Ladybug! Ladybug!

| Gentleness, Joy

Three years ago, I discovered that you can purchase ladybugs to strew about your yard, to eat up all your aphids. I bought a package of them, let the little bitty Peter play with some (they do fly away pretty quickly), and took most of them to church for the Sunday School preschoolers to take and release into our church’s neighborhood garden. It has become a yearly tradition.

I bought the most recent ladybug collection weeks ago, and rainy weather and chilly weather kept us indoors for several Sundays. And kept the ladybugs in my fridge. Finally, last Sunday was nice and sunny, so out we went.

After a couple of hours outside the refrigerator, the bugs were all awake and active. As soon as I opened up the container, they were ready to get to work. Or at least get out.

The first time I bought ladybugs, I asked the clerk at the nursery how many bugs were in the container (which was different than this one). She said, “About fifteen hundred.” This container says, “About 500.”  Still, it seemed like enough. And, the carton says, “New Look! Same great bugs!”

 

IMG_3792Later, I was in worship service, enjoying the choir-led, lots-of-music, service, and sitting in my favorite spot, up in the balcony. I felt a sort of tickling, down the back of my thigh. I was startled for a moment, and then thought, “Oh, of course.” And I reached back and carefully gathered up the ladybug, who had not flown away when she should have. I tried to wriggle my phone from my pocket, to photograph her, as I figured no one would believe that a ladybug had hung on for 45 minutes or so. But, before I could get the phone on and focused, she took flight.

If you look closely, you can see lots of little lady bug-sized spots on the carpet. They are the drips left behind from the Lord’s Supper grape juice. I searched each one I could see, to be sure it wasn’t moving around. Nothing was. I’m hoping she got a ride out of there on someone else’s back, and made it to freedom.

Winter is past, the rain has stopped; flowers cover the earth; it’s time to sing.

The cooing of doves is heard in our land.

Song of Solomon 2:11-12 (Contemporary English Version)

Springtime. I wish it lasted a little longer.

When I’m driving Peter back and forth, to and from Waco, he sometimes likes to listen to Peter, Paul, and Mary recordings. One of the songs is “Rain, Rain, Go Away.” There are several verses, in between the “rain, rain, go away, come again some other day,” chorus. One of those verses says, “Ladybug, Ladybug! Fly away home! Your house is on fire, and your children-they will burn.” When that verse comes on, I sing, pretty loudly, “Your house is on fire! And the firemen-they will come!”

My favorite ladybug song is one I learned when the boys were little and watching Sesame Street. There were songs for every number up to twelve. The “twelve” song was  “The Ladybugs’ Picnic.” I still know all the words.

The Game’s Afoot

| Gentleness, Kindness, Patience, Self-Control

 

When Kevin, and then Jeremy, were at TCU, I used to visit Hulen Mall in Fort Worth pretty regularly. It was sort of on the way to the university—just a matter of where one turned off I35. There was a Container Store in front of the mall, and right across the street there was a Border’s Bookstore. Lots to do. After graduation, Kevin moved to the Cultural District; Jeremy eventually moved over there, too. Kevin and April still live in that area. Jeremy and Sarah married and moved to Brooklyn. The Border’s moved much closer to Kevin and April. Then, that store closed down, and The Container Store moved into the old Border’s spot. So, all in all, I don’t have much reason to visit the Hulen Mall area any more. Until yesterday. I was on my way to hear a speaker at a Fort Worth library which was really close to the Mall, and I’m on a quest to find a skirt with pockets, which turns out to be a much more difficult task that any sensible person might imagine. Maybe it is nonsense, but I tried.

 

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When the Grandchildren Come

| Gentleness, Joy, Love, Patience, Self-Control, Uncategorized

Well, at our house, it’s the grandchild. He’s our one and only. And it’s just as great as people have said it would be, and as I suspected it would be. Which doesn’t mean that we don’t have our moments…

But for every disagreement there are many, many more moments of delight and joy and charm.

And of course, at grandparents’ house, things can be a little more lax. Vegetables at most meals at home. Vegetables at some meals at Mimi and Grandad’s. At home, a regular, specific bedtime routine beginning at about 7 o’clock: bath, book, bed. In Waco, well, at 7:30 or so, it’s: bath, ice cream and Nutty Bar, two or three or four books, and bed. And things rock along pretty well for all three of us.

A few weeks ago, some folks across the street cut down a tree in their back yard, doing some work before getting the house ready to rent. The limbs and leaves and lengths of trunk have been out on the curb for weeks, waiting for the city to come and pick it all up. Meanwhile, I sent David there a couple of weeks ago to get two of the trunk pieces for Peter to use for woodworking. The garage gets pretty warm right now, but Peter did spend a little time out there with his new tools.

We went to Target Thursday, mainly for a prescription and some groceries. You can get everything you need there for a great lunch!

 

But he was sitting quietly in the living room, putting the cards from a Dr. Seuss game in a plastic bag that usually holds colored large craft sticks. He was a little miffed that I showed up, and he tried to send me back to the sleeper car, but I insisted that I had some chores to do. He was exasperated that I would not stay put. I have not idea what he had in mind for his next activity (w/out Mimi's supervision).

After post-lunch “quiet play time” in the living room (which is essentially Peter’s room, as it is where he sleeps and where all the toys are), I went to release him from there and we ended up playing for the next couple of hours. At one point, we pretend rode the TRE, which is a commuter train in Fort Worth that Peter and friends took a ride on for Peter’s birthday celebration, back in January. We walked around the house, on the TRE, and ended up in the guest room which was the “sleeper car.” (FYI, the TRE is a commuter train and doesn’t have a sleeper car, but, apparently, according to Peter, it should.) By then, I was pretty happy to lie down and close my eyes. After all too sort a time, Peter left. Eventually, I went off to locate him, imagining all sorts of unsupervised devilment that might be happening.

But he was sitting quietly in the living room, putting the cards from a Dr. Seuss game in a plastic bag that usually holds colored large craft sticks. He was a little miffed that I showed up, and he tried to send me back to the sleeper car, but I insisted that I had some chores to do. He was exasperated that I would not stay put. I have no idea what he had in mind for his next activity (w/out Mimi’s supervision).

For dinner, his idea was that we should have a BIG grilled cheese sandwich, that everyone could share. I couldn’t quite figure out how to do that, but I did make some homemade bread in the bread machine (oh, yes, I did, because it makes a taller loaf and I could make a bigger grilled cheese sandwich than usual). So, the three of us shared two big grilled cheese sandwiches. And ate the rest of the cucumber.

Then he and David went to the Mayborn Museum, which is open late on Thursdays, and they always do that when he comes. (I’m not the only pushover in the house.) Friday morning, we’re going on a first-thing-in-the-morning-before-the-temperature-gets-unbearable trip to the zoo, to see the elephants, giraffes, and orangutans, which we didn’t see last month when we went. Then, a stop by the zoo’s splash pad to cool off.

IMG_1458Saturday is supposed to be much cooler (well, in the 90’s instead of 104). David is supposed to help Peter practice kicking a soccer ball into a tiny, preschool-sized soccer goal, because he’s going to play soccer this fall. April ordered cleats for him, and they arrived this evening.

  Grandparents are proud
    of their grandchildren,
    and children should be proud
    of their parents.

Proverbs 17:6  (Contemporary English Vesion)

And my favorite thing he said this trip: When I went to get Peter on Wednesday, I had lunch with him and Kevin and April at their house. At one point, we were talking about our respective Sunday School classes (their kindergartners and my 3’s, 4’s, and 5’s). I said to Peter, “In a few months, you’ll be four!” “I know,” he said. “I’m so excited about being 4 years old.” “You’re really growing,” I said.

He became quite serious, and said, (with sort of choppy, delineating hand motions) “First you turn one. Then you turn two. Then you turn three. Then you turn four. Then you turn five. Then you turn six. Then you turn seven. Then you turn eight. Then you turn nine. Then,” (a brief pause, for dramatic effect, I suppose), “you turn ten.”

Kevin and I waited for a moment, then Kevin, said, “And then what,” expecting some more numbers, because Peter usually counts pretty reliably to about thirty. Peter looked at him, shrugged his shoulders a little and said, “Then you die.” I’m so proud.

Happy Easter Weekend

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace, Self-Control

I thought that Kevin and April (and PETER!) weren’t coming for Easter. But, then, they decided to!!! Which made a good weekend even more anticipated, more delightful, more satisfying.

I had Peter all by myself on Friday. There was a little shopping. A little napping. And a surprise! April’s birthday is coming up soon, and I thought we could make a surprise for her. I planned to make treats to serve on Sunday. However, when a three-year-old prepares a surprise on a Friday, you just have to have that surprise on a Friday. I asked what kind of cupcakes he thought Mommy would like. White. And what kind of frosting? White. With sprinkles. So that’s what we did.

 

Saturday was a beautiful day.

 

 

Peter was the first one who arrived with flowers.

Peter was the first one who arrived with flowers.

Sunday morning–We have a large cross that stays in the Worship Center all the time.

We have a tradition of putting fresh flowers on it on Easter Sunday morning.

 

 

 

 

I handed Peter over to David when I arrived at church. Then I went on along to my Sunday School room to prepare for preschoolers’ arrival. As I was rushing around the room, suddenly, something seemed a little odd.

Of all the things we do at my church, and maybe ever have done, my most favorite is how we do baptisms these days. Instead of sitting in our pews and watching from afar (well, it’s not that far), we gather forward. Kids in front, so they can see well. The rest of us packed behind them, on the platform, on the steps, pressed together.

Welcome, young lady. Welcome into your faith family.

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“Now, get on your way quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He is risen from the dead. He is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.’ That’s the message.”

Matthew 28:7 (The Message)

Christ is risen. Christós Anésti, or Χριστός Ανέστη. (We have Greek relatives.)

Let’s face it, for people who love Jesus, every weekend is a happy Easter weekend.