No Greater Joy

Conversation this morning in church:

Song 1 begins

C: I know this song! It's on my radio! (Thank you K-Love!)

Song 2 begins

C: I know this song! From "Kitchen" Bible School! (Love that 4-year-old interpretation…and thank you Crocodile Rock…or Dock…or whatever it was at VBS last summer. We LOVED the music!)

Song 3 begins. She doesn't know this one, but she's apparently coloring and paying attention at the same time

C: Why does she raise her hand like that when she sings?

Me: (Hmmm….how to explain this to a four year old.) To show that she really means what she is saying as she sings.

C: Oh. Huh. (aaaand back to the coloring)



You know, we thought about not going to church this morning. There were a couple upset stomachs overnight, and several wake-ups – for us and for kids. And there was no kinder- or children's-church, which meant both the older kids would be in with us, needing to be entertained and kept quiet. Not to mention the snow still everywhere out there. But when we got up, it turned out that it was still above freezing, so no ice on the roads. And we were awake. And in the end, it was the right thing to do. So off we went.

You know what else, it's really easy to think my kids aren't paying attention. That when the service isn't geared toward them they won't get anything out of it. And maybe they didn't pick up a whole lot, but to watch my son sing along, and to see my daughter processing what she was hearing and seeing, and connecting it to her everyday life…well, that sorta wakes me up. They aren't babies any more, that they won't really be aware of what's going on or what day it is. Three minutes at night reading through C's "motional" book (devotional book. I will correct it someday.) might not be enough of an investment in their futures.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. 3 John 1:4

If that's true, it's my job. If that's true, my priorities are pretty simple.

My priorities are simple…my job is not. Whew. This parenting thing gets tougher every year!

Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby (Part 2)

Except she would loudly object to me calling her “baby” – already did this morning, in fact. “I’m NOT a baby! I’m 4!” Yes, but I miss that baby…..

Four years ago today, we were getting ready for the big rivalry football game on TV, cleaning house and planning the party. I was nesting. I knew we were going to keep a bassinet beside the bed for C, so I was trying to clear our magazines and papers and junk from the area beside the bed. I left my husband to clean up the living room/kitchen for the party…I picked the bedroom because it was closer to the bathroom. At nine months pregnant, I was in there a lot, and the less walking required to get there, the better.

We were fairly certain we were going to end up with a baby before the weekend was over. We were about 10 days before the due date, but there had been several signs that made me pretty sure we were close. I had stayed forever after school on Friday making sure everything was set and ready to go for my maternity leave, so I was determined that baby was coming before Monday. No way did I want to have to go teach another day after doing all that work!

I think we were hoping to get to watch the game at home…things didn’t seem to be moving along very fast, so my husband’s family was picking up a tray of wings and headed our way. Then all of a sudden, things didn’t seem right, and there was quite a bit of bleeding, and more than a little panicking, and we were racing to the hospital, hoping that nothing was seriously wrong, and that all would be well.

Well, the game didn’t come out so well, but the baby did! She wasn’t in as big a hurry as we thought, though, so we had plenty of time to watch the loss before we had to concentrate on labor.

When he came in to “meet” her, T1 was very concerned that the sister he had been counting on might not be a girl. She didn’t have any curls, and he was pretty sure that girls were supposed to have curly hair! Thank goodness the hair isn’t the determining factor, because we are so grateful to have our sweet girl.

Happy Birthday, C. You are greatly loved.

Zacchaeus Was a Wee Little Man

We learned at church last Sunday that Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and that he climbed up in a “sycamus” tree. Now, if you learned the song any differently, please don’t tell C…she likes it that way. It’s driving T1 nuts, but there’s no arguing with her. And, honestly? I kind of want to enjoy this mis-speak for a while. After all, it doesn’t last nearly long enough.

Once upon a time, it was T, with his “peeceypacer” (pacifier). No oversimplification of words for him – he goes for the complicated pronunciations! And it was impossible for him to say “ch.” It sort of came through his nose in a snort kind of sound. I tried lots of times to mimic it and never could get it quite right. You should have heard him say “church” – especially when he had a cold!

Now it is C, with her desire to take a “maza-gine” to read at the “Bak-setball” game. And her sycamus tree.

I know, soon it will be T2’s turn, and she’ll have all kinds of entertaining words for us, but I don’t want to hurry anything along.

They outgrow it, and we mourn a little. I guess if they didn’t outgrow it, we would mourn more than a little. But for now, if you sing the Zacchaeus song with my C, will you sing her version? I want to enjoy my view of the “sycamus trees” for a while.