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Proof that they’re mine

September 7, 2011 by

My kids all favor their dad quite a bit.  Particularly Sloan and Tia.  I always have to laugh, though, when people look at them and say things like, “They look just like their Daddy.  But I also see a little bit of your brother in them.”

Huh…that’s funny.  Because my brother was in no way involved in the creation of these kids.  So, without further ado (and because I don’t have much creativity flowing through me today), I give you proof that my kids also look a tiny bit like their Mama.

Aaaahhh...the classic studio shot of the '80's. It was probably taken at Olan Mills.

Four years old.

5-ish years old

2nd Grade. You're jealous of my shirt...

And just because I know you want to see it:

Oversize Esprit Bag? Check. Units belt?  Check.  High tops? Check.  Side ponytail crimped? Check.

Ladies and gentlemen, I owned 1988.  Owned. It.

So what do you think?  Can I claim the kids as my own?

Happy Wednesday.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Kids, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: , , ,

Utah, A Bomb and a Slithering Sea Snake

September 5, 2011 by

The first week of school is tucked firmly beneath my belt.  This is fancy talk for, I survived. So did the kids, by the way.  Landon barely.  Apparently I neglected to mention to him when we began that school occurs every. single. day.  So on day two, as he toddled into the kitchen, his morning Cup ‘a Joe nestled firmly between his teeth (read: sippy cup of juice), he asked me the same thing he asks me every morning.

“Mommy?  What we gonna do today?”

“We have school again today.”

Shock.

Horror.

Face crumbles, juice falls to the floor and a great deal of weeping doth commence.  “But we alweady did school yestewday!”

Um…yeah.  Apparently school every day isn’t his favorite.  By day five he started to come around, though he never met the news that school was about to begin with much glee.  You can’t please everyone, right?

Not that school was a wash for him.  We worked on learning the States last week.  We labeled them on a map and each day learned to identify a few more.  By the end of the week, Sloan was able to point to and label 30 States.  Tia could label about 15 and then needed a few prompts for the rest.  Landon can point to about 6 when asked where they are.  But all on his own, he can label one State.

Utah.

For some reason Utah. Not Florida.  Not Missouri.  Utah.

Why?

There is no way for me to answer that question.  I don’t know why.  All I know is my three year old can point to Utah when shown a blank map.  I am so proud.

 

We are one with the fish

 

As a reward for a great first week of school, we finished lessons early on Friday and headed to the The Florida Aquarium in Tampa.  We got up close and personal with the sting rays, we growled at the sharks and we made silly faces at the alligators.  And we topped it all off with some good old fashioned water play.

 

Grrrr....

As an impromptu history lesson, we walked next door to the American Victory Ship, one of only four operational World War II ships in the country.  It was the end of the day and they were preparing to close, but they let us have the run of the ship before shutting everything down.  We rang the bells, visited the captain’s quarters and fought mighty battles against the enemy warships and alien droids.

We won each battle with nary an injury.  It was truly a victorious ship.

Just before leaving, one of the sailors aboard the ship took us into the Engine Room and gave us a quick history lesson.  The ship was built 70 years ago (not 60 hundred as Landon guessed…by hey – he can identify Utah, right?).  And the massive vessel was built in only 55 days.  Not 25 years as Sloan guessed.  But hey…he can point to 30 States on a map, right?

“Can you take us out on a ride in this ship?” Sloan asked the Sailor-man.  I just wish my child wasn’t so shy, ya know?

“Well, no.  Not right now.  We’re dry docked right now.  There are a lot of things that need to be done to get a ship out to sea.”

“Oh,” Sloan said, not masking his disappointment at all.  This week’s homeschooling theme is “Tact and How To Use It.”

Seeing his crestfallen face, Sailor-man smiled.  “You know,” he said.  “Every once in awhile we do take this beautiful ship out for a spin on the water.  You have your mom find out when we’re going to do that again and make sure you all come out to take a ride with us, okay?”

Sloan grinned and clasped his hands together at his chest.  “Okay!” he cried, his eyes dancing.  “When we go out, can you shoot off a bomb? Please?” He did use lovely manners making his Mama brim with pride.

“Well,” Sailor-man said, his own eyes twinkling, “Now I’m afraid that’s frowned upon…”

Pause.  Silence.

“What do you mean?” Sloan asked.

And we all laughed.  Me with the “Oh I’m so embarrassed I will explain this to him later” Mom laugh, and Sailor-man with the “I used to be a little boy and I had a few little boys of my own so I totally understand what’s going on inside his head” laugh.  And off we went.

Sunday night brought beautiful, perfect Florida weather.  There was an ocean breeze perfect for fishing and we traipsed down to the dock at sunset where Sloan immediately snagged a beautiful, large blue crab.  After a bit of dancing and a whole lot of finagling, we got him in the bucket and gave him a pinfish to play with.  Lee pulled in a good sized catfish that we all ooed and aahed over until it came time to take him off the hook, then we all scattered and let Lee handle the honors alone.

We’re a brave bunch.

The night ended early, however, when Sloan’s line bent over and he struggled and fought and pulled up a…friggin’ snake. When we figured out that’s what was on his line, Tia sprouted wings and flew 50 feet in less than a second.  I danced and yelped while Lee held his arms straight out and yelled “STOP!  Do not pull that thing in.”  He grabbed the pole and shook it until the long (too long) sea monster finally fell off.  And with our hearts hammering in our throats, we packed it in and marched inside, cooking our crab for a little late night snack.

How was your holiday weekend?

 

Our bedtime snack, courtesy of Sloan.

Filed Under: Family, Florida, funny stuff that happens, Homeschool, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , , , , ,

The eyes to see

September 5, 2011 by

Like a petal dancing on the wind, the theme of Grace has been floating across the internet this past year.  Everywhere you look, people are seeing it, feeling it and living it.

Grace.

Grace is not a movement.  Grace has simply always been.  Grace hasn’t changed or altered or moved. Grace has been dancing for us for all of eternity – we just haven’t always seen it.  But it isn’t fair for me to speak of you, for perhaps you have seen it.  Perhaps only I have missed it.

Grace.

In the past two months, our life has changed drastically.  The known has been replaced with the unknown and the comforts of predictability have been stripped away.  Filled with fear and doubt, we’ve moved forward with faltering steps, our eyes truly open for the first time.

Grace.

It’s always been there, just waiting for me to see it.  A sunrise over the dark waters, bursting forth the light of day.  Grace. A palm tree swaying and bending in the stormy winds, a sign of water coming to renew the ground.  Grace. A bird singing, a lizard racing and the pealed laughter of children with eyes wide to Grace.  All these things were here.

And I can finally see.

Ann’s book opened my eyes.  Her blog moves my heart.  And I looked, not only in nature, but at man – God’s most glorious creation.  Grace.

I sat on the plane last week, my head and my ears tight.  The cabin pressure left me with a headache and I could never quite get my ears cleared.  As we descended, the man across the aisle leaned over.  “Would you like a piece of gum?” he asked, a kind and understanding smile on his face.  I accepted gratefully.

Grace.

Standing up to deplane, I watched the man in front of me help an elderly woman with her bag.  He pulled it down and as she reached for it, he shook his head.  “I’ll get it off the plane for you, ma’am,” he said.

Grace.

Life is full of Grace…when you’re watching for it.  And in the looking, another miracle takes place.  Life slows down. As a mother, this is the greatest miracle of all.  Because the passing of time takes with it the sweetness of youth.  Newborn cries turn into toddler giggles turn into the lengthening of limbs and deepening sounds of a growing man’s voice.  And it all happens in a blink.

But when you’re looking for Grace, the moments last a little longer.  The sticky arms flung around your neck hold on tighter.  The giggles ring a little louder.  The wet kisses are a little sweeter.  Life is grander.

Grace.

How are you seeing Grace these days?

Filed Under: books, faith, Family, Florida, Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: , , , ,

No Bimbo’s for me, thank you

September 1, 2011 by

We don’t watch a lot of television these days.  There isn’t time for it and, honestly, there is very little reason to.  When we get into our house we won’t even hook cable up and I don’t think anyone will miss it.

In the mornings, the kids enjoy Animal Planet. Steve the Crocodile Hunter makes us all laugh…and cringe a little.  In the evenings, every once in awhile, we turn on re-runs of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. It makes us all cry.  Tonight, as the show ended, the network began airing a preview of the next show to air.

Sweet Home Alabama.

Not the adorable Resse Witherspoon movie.  No, no.  This was yet another ridiculous time suck of a reality show about a group of over bleached, over tanned, under dressed girls from (I can only assume) Alabama.  I immediately changed the channel.  Little House on the Prairie – the only insanely pure show still played on television, although sadly the commercials are so horrible that I had to keep changing the channel to the Catholic Reading Hour every time the show took a break.

Ha!

“Mom, why can’t we watch that?” Sloan asked as I muttered under my breath.

“Because there’s no reason to watch a show about a  bunch of bimbo’s,” I replied.  “I’m not raising a bimbo.  I’m raising a strong, confident girl who doesn’t think that life revolves around boys and spray tans.”

And I mean it.

This is not meant to offend, but here’s the thing.  I loathe reality TV.  Loathe it.  *hear me snarl* Outside of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (which even the excess of that show gets on my nerves after awhile…because I am, apparently, a robot), I can’t stand a single reality show.  They make me bonkers.  Nicole said it a couple of weeks ago and I will reiterate the same point – everything that’s wrong with our society is showcased in reality TV. Everything.  And we put it on display for the whole world to see.

Is it any wonder America has lost so much respect in the world?

Jersey Shore. Real Housewives of Such and Such (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH – NOT REAL NOT REAL NOT REAL).  Sweet Home Alabama.  Russian Dolls (are you kidding me?).  Big Brother.  The Bachelor and it’s spawn The Bachelorette.  I know, I may have just broken some hearts.  Unfortunately, this list of absurdity could go on and on.  And on.  And ooooooooonnnnnnn.

Selfishness, greed, hatred, lust, gluttony, deceit, anger, malice, jealousy, guilt and plain old stupidity – all of these highlighted for entertainment’s sake.  And when I see a clip of a bleach blonde girl Valley Girl chatting into the camera I want to throw a shoe through the TV then take my daughter out and teach her how to be a real REAL woman.  I want to teach her to play sports and love people and respect herself and care for the hurting.  I want to tell her that life is more than boys and clothes and fame and notoriety.

I want my boys to know that what makes a woman beautiful is not the length of her skirt but the love she has and shows for others.  I want my boys to respect women more than the men on those shows respect them.  I want my daughter to respect herself more than those women respect themselves.

I have to check myself when I begin to rant on these shows.  Because the fact of the matter is this: I can disconnect cable and make sure my children are never subjected to the horror that is reality TV, but unless I’m modeling what it means to be a woman of grace, peace, love and maturity to my daughter, she will never know it.

If Lee doesn’t model to the boys what it means to look like, act like and behave like a real man then they won’t know.  If he isn’t showing them how to respect women and how to love a wife, they won’t know.  It doesn’t matter what’s on TV – our kids have to see it modeled from us first and foremost.  That’s the real challenge.

That and making sure that none of that smut gets into our home.

*steps meekly off soap box and slides it back under the bed*

Ahem…

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Life, Motherhood, the boob tube Tagged With: , ,

First Day of School: Homeschool Edition

August 30, 2011 by

Our beachside elementary school officially opened its doors yesterday. Children with a deep need for routine made beginning a week earlier than planned a necessity.  And so, with a great deal of excitement mingled with even greater nervous energy, we began our first day of school.

I got out of bed, my feet hitting the cold tile floor and my stomach flipped upside down.  Getting dressed, I seriously entertained the idea of packing the kids up and driving to Tampa to enroll them in school.  I looked in the mirror at the wide, scared eyes staring back.  What if I fail?  What if I irrevocably screw them up for life?  What if  damage our relationship with one another?  What if…

And then I stopped.  Took a deep breath.  Prayed.

What if this is the best thing that ever happened to our family?  What if I choose to rest in the now and what has clearly been laid out before us?  What if it’s fun?!

And that was it.  I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall and began an adventure I never thought I’d take.  And dare I say…we had fun.

Preapring to begin our day.

Walking to school. Really, we just made a huge circle and came back home.

There's something for everyone to do. Although my guess is Landon asked me roughly 462 times if he could please play the Ds.

The letter ‘F’ was on the docket for the first day.
Snack time was combined with recess.
Recess was at the park.
Picnic lunch on the floor in a pillow fort.
Landon gets hold of the camera while I’m not looking and takes 56 pictures of my backside.
Math, Geography, History and Literature are covered.
We covered Russian as well.
At the end of the day, we made our walk back home.

 

Whew…

Today we get to do it all over again.

I think I’m excited.

Filed Under: Homeschool, Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

And Then We Wept

August 23, 2011 by

An iron will combined with pure determination make her beauty a little tougher to penetrate.  Life ebbs and flows under her watchful eye and she pours forth emotion only when unaware that anyone is watching.  Fierce love and sheer delight dance in her eyes, though, and it’s here that her tough exterior shows weakness.  The best kind of weakness.

Compassion.

Her white blonde strands dance in the wind and her baby blues swim with concern.  Her brother has just been punctured by a catfish – his first fishing wound.  As blood seeps and he cries, she makes her move unaware of my observance.  She slips an arm around his shoulder and squeezes tight.  Concern.  Fear.  Pain.

She feels it all.

She feels my watchful eye and turns to look at me. I nod, showing as little emotion as I can and for a moment, I see her compassion falter. But a maturity is setting in – one that hasn’t been there before. She is five and a half now. She reminds us every day.

What I see is more than an age, though. It’s God. It’s a given nature settling in, begging to be watered and fed. She is seeking and questioning. Who is God? What is Grace? What did Jesus do for me? She asks and I answer. Then we wait.

“I want to know Jesus,” she says from the backseat. “But I’m not ready yet.” And that is okay. We will let her wait and question and seek, because the time is coming when faith will call and she will make it hers. But it will be in the time that feels right to her. She would have it no other way.

I would have it no other way.

He would have it no other way.

Her younger brother cries. In a fit of laughter he took the corner too fast and head met wall with force. He wails and I look down. Her hand on his ankle and tears in her eyes. She looks entirely surprised by this reaction. Empathy has never been her first reaction. But lately…she’s changing.

“I don’t know why I’m cwying,” she says, her eyes bright.

Compassion.

I say the word to her. Over and over we discuss it. Compassion. I tell her every day now. “You are compassionate. You care. And that’s a good thing.” She needs to know. Because by nature, her independence prefers distance. She likes control and predictability. But compassion…it is unpredictable. You don’t know when it will strike and the tears will flow. Compassion requires surrender.

Late in the evening as a storm meanders off in the distance and the clouds paint the sky in a Master Tapestry of shape and color, she and I walk hand in hand. “Do you want to call her?” I ask. She has been talking about her friend Noelle for several days. I hear the ache in her voice. The tender age of five has not tempered her longing for companionship. She misses her friend.

“No,” she says and shakes her head hard. This is her sign. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to process. The tough exterior is up. We return to the condo and I watch her move.

“Tia. Why don’t you want to call Noelle?” I ask, when the bustling movement of masculinity dashes to another room and we two are left alone. She looks at the floor, then at me. Again her eyes are full and bright and sad. She shrugs. She won’t talk because the emotion threatens and wavers and her first reaction is to fight for control.

“Are you afraid that hearing her voice will make you sad?” I ask. And she crumbles. We lay on the bed and weep together. Me for her…and for myself. I miss them too. The friends and loved ones. I miss them. And so does she. She’s only five, but also…she is five.

We spend some time talking about our friends. We remember all the fun we had with them and we rejoice in the blessing of dear, sweet friendships. Then we pray. She clutches to my chest, her hot tears dripping off her nose and together we plead for new friendships to fill the void. For me.

For her.

And one more time before the lights go out we discuss compassion. I stroke her silky soft hair and tell her again. It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to love. She possesses all of these emotions in full but letting them out is the trick. It’s the magic.

It’s what makes her so unique and wonderful.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Florida, Kids, Moving, Tia Tagged With: , , , ,

Scenes from a Summer

August 16, 2011 by

 

Lots of fishing

 

Kayaking with Daddy

Tia's Catfish

Fun in the sun makes for good naps

Song by the lovely Rebekah Sullivant.

Filed Under: Family, Florida, Kids, Life, summer fun Tagged With: , , , ,

The Homeschool Post

August 11, 2011 by

Forgive the lame photos. My good camera is at the spa getting a facelift.

I never planned to be a homeschooler.  It was never something I desired to do.  Never.  In fact, I’m pretty sure my exact words in the past were, “There’s no way in H@#! I would ever do that.”

Classy.

But something happened earlier this year and a transformation began inside my heart.

Sometime after the New Year, Sloan began struggling in school.  It wasn’t a major struggle.  He was getting by just fine, but he wasn’t thriving.  Part of that was my fault.  Life was just so overscheduled.  We had something almost every evening of every week – all good things, but it left my kids bouncing in the wake of life and they were tired.

So we started cutting things out.  Good things.  And I hated it.  All the while, I shipped my worn out child off to school for eight hours a day despite his daily pleas to let him stay home “just this once.”

I’ve said it before but it bears repeating.  I don’t have major issues with the public school system.  I have nothing but respect for the men and women who choose to teach our children.  Some are better than others, to be sure and the system is far from perfect.  But it deserves respect and it has that from me.  I wasn’t necessarily upset with the quality of education my son was receiving so much as the time it seemed to take to get it.  I feel like one of the biggest flaws in our school system (and this applies to both public and private schools, incidentally) is the amount of time we are keeping our children in the school building.

Sloan got on the bus at 8:00 every morning and he got off at 3:30.  This left very little evening time for us as a family.  It also left him tired and unwilling to concentrate on any kind of homework.  He never wanted to sit and read a book and I didn’t blame him.  If I were forced to sit and listen for roughly 30 hours per week I wouldn’t want to read a book either.  That’s a lot of time for our little guys to be away.

This combined with a lot of prayer led me to seriously begin considering homeschooling.  I entertained that idea alongside the idea of checking myself into the loony bin, because I felt sincerely crazy.  Homeschooling?  Really?

Yes.  Really.

Two kids, two sets of study guides, double the crazy?

I mulled all these things over by myself for awhile, then I went to my husband.  I was positive that he would have his head squarely placed on his shoulders and would practically and reasonably talk me out of this silly little notion.

“I think you should look into it,” he said.  And then I passed out.

When I came to, he continued.  “Obviously the Lord is working something out in your heart because I’ve never heard you talk like this before, so I really think this is something we need to research and pursue.”  So being the dutiful wife that I am (wink, wink) I took his advice and began talking to every single homeschooling friend I have.  I asked them all for the exact same information:

– Give me every reason I should do this and…

-Give me every single reason I should not.

Not surprisingly, the reasons I should far outnumbered the reasons I shouldn’t, and the reasons I shouldn’t were mostly selfish in nature.  But I still wasn’t convinced, so I researched and prayed and waffled and wavered and questioned and finally decided that homeschooling was something I needed to do.  Not for me, but for them. (When I say them, I’m referring to the children…you already knew that, didn’t you?)

Ultimately, I knew that I needed to get my clutches into my kids and show them what a joy learning can be.  Even if I only do it one year, I want the year to count.  I want them to know that I was willing to give up everything for them so that they could see the magic of opening a book.

Now I’m not sure I can show the the magic in math.  Because math is not magical.  It’s just numbers. Lame.

Right after I made the decision to homeschool, we found out we were moving and the timing just felt right.  It also felt horrible.  How would I do this without a local network of support?  HOW?!

I’ll tell you how.  Yesterday, as I watched Landon at swimming lessons, one of the other moms walked up to me.  “Do you homeschool?” she asked.  I was taken aback, because why would she ask that?  What a random question?  Was I putting off some kind of homeschool vibe?  It must have been the denim jumper I was wearing…the one with the apple and ruler appliques on the front.

I kid.

“Yes,” I answered.  “This is my first year.”

“Oh you’ll love it,” she said with a smile.  “I’ve been homeschooling for years.  What curriculum are you using?”

“Sonlight,” I replied.

“Wonderful!” she cried.  “That’s what we use.  Let me know if you have any questions about it.”

OMG - So many pages. I feel like I'm decoding the key to a secret world...

Is it coincidence that she randomly struck up a homeschooling conversation?  Maybe…but I doubt it.  Because today our curriculum arrived in the mail and I am thoroughly and completely overwhelmed by it all.    Thankfully, I have a new friend who will be able to show me the ropes.  And for me, that was one more confirmation that we are in the right place, doing the right thing.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go churn my own butter while simultaneously working on my needlepoint and baking homemade bread.

I kid.  I’m not going to do any of those things.  I’m going to finish my wine cooler and go to bed.

So this is the part where you join in, my bloggy friends.  Would you ever homeschool your children (or are you currently)?  Give me the best and worst.  I want to be prepared.

 

Filed Under: faith, Family, Kids, Motherhood, School Tagged With: , , , ,

It’s raining today

August 10, 2011 by

She’s walked around the house whimpering and clutching her ear.  She hasn’t slept a full night in four days nor has she eaten much of anything.

This is the child who never says no to sleep and food.  Ever.

More than once when she was younger, she would vomit in the middle of the night and go right back to sleep in it and we wouldn’t know she was sick until the next morning when the house smelled like death.  Hope you’re not reading this while drinking your coffee.

So we knew something was wrong.  The Walgreen’s Walk In clinic nurse lady said Swimmer’s Ear.  It was a best guess since she couldn’t see past the impacted wax in Tia’s teeny tiny ear canals.  So off we went with drops and an Icee, because Tia didn’t scream bloody murder when the nurse lady looked in her ears.

But…

She spiked a fever and her ear hurt so bad she couldn’t even eat a Wendy’s Frosty for lunch. This was bad.  So we made a phone call to a local ENT and I bribed her a second time in three days.

“Be brave and I’ll get you a little treat,” I promised.  Because in the past it’s taken me and two nurses to hold her down for an ear exam.  Bribery is my only defense.

“That is a nasty looking little ear,” the doctor said as he peeked inside.  Her eyes were squeezed shut and she took big deep breaths to keep herself calm.  “Most adults wouldn’t be able to function under the type of pain she is probably experiencing.”

Her ear canal has swollen shut, a negative reaction to the medicated drops.  Does she have an inner ear infection in addition to the outer ear infection?  No one can say because she has so much wax in her ears and it’s packed in tight like cement.

“I’m surprised she can hear anything at all,” he said.  I told him we repeat things a lot.

So Friday morning, we are headed into a local surgery center to have her sedated and have her ears roto-rooter’ed (Yes, that’s a word…it’s a verb).  From there we will better be able to determine exactly what’s going on inside her ears and hopefully relieve her of this nasty, ugly pain.

Until then, it’s lots of Tylenol and hugs and probably a few more sleepless nights.  The little radiator climbs in bed with us around 1:30 when her current dose of medication wears off and sleeps on top of me the rest of the night.  The good news is that last night, for the first time in several days, she hasn’t cried throughout the night.  And she’s still asleep this morning.

Probably because it’s raining and dark outside.

Look at that, I somehow managed to tie that random title into this post after all.  Go me…

How is your week going?

Filed Under: Kids, Tia Tagged With: , , ,

Whispers

August 2, 2011 by

Image Credit: www.moopandsaba.blogspot.com

“I have a secret,” he whispers. Or a “theekwet,” in his lispy language.

“What’s your secret?” I ask, leaning down so my nose is inches from his freckled face.  (Oh how I love his dotted little nose.)

“I wub you,” he answers with a grin.

And then I melt.  And promise him all the Cheezit’s he could ever want.  And a pony.  And his sibling’s inheritance.

How is it that children know the exact words to say when we need it most?  I was tired this morning, and a little crabby.  I wanted to sleep  longer and wake up happier.  My yummy little guy was actually still waking up himself and had snuggled his warm body close, his sippy cup tucked under his arm.  (Because my third born does not function in any capacity in the morning without a sippy cup of juice or milk first.  He’s a toddler coffee addict…without the coffee.)

How did he know that I just needed some kind of encouragement to get the day started?  When I pulled back from our “theekwet” he grinned at me slyly.  He’s a heartbreaker that one.  Mama’s lock your doors, cause this kid is trouble. Adorable, squeezable trouble – the most dangerous kind.

There have been so many encouragement’s these past few days.  Are you guys praying?  Because I am feeling the power of God working in ways I didn’t imagine.  Tangible delight being poured upon us.  From “theekwets” to the making of new friends.  From house hunting encouragement to just an overall feeling of contentment.

Today, I went with Lee to the bank to be added to our new account.  The woman who helped Lee last week when he first went in wasn’t available, but another woman was there to help us.  Her name was Ekaterina, or Katya – her accent was Russian.  After we sat down, she left the room briefly and Lee looked at me with eyebrows raised.

“Hmmm…” he said, all smug-like.

“Don’t, please,” I groaned.  “I don’t feel like it.”  You see, friends, my husband feels the need to tell every single Russian we ever meet that his wife speaks Russian.  Then he slaps me on the back and tells me to talk.  It’s not my favorite.

But I’m also really grateful to him for it.  Because, honestly, my personality is one that I would let all those opportunities just slide right by because it makes me a little uncomfortable and embarrassed.  And this morning…well, the “theekwet” hadn’t totally burned off my crabby mood.

When she returned the firs thing Lee asked was where she was from.  “Russia,” she replied in the accent that is so familiar to me.  “Huh,” he said, looking at me.  I sighed and turned and began speaking with her in Russian.  And you know what?

It was awesome!

Why do I resist that sexy man of mine?!

So my new friend and I will be getting together sometime soon to go shopping at some local Russian stores.  And it was yet another whisper – a “theekwet,” if you will – that everything is going to be okay.  I love making Russian friends.  Love it, love it, love it.  And I would have completely passed that opportunity up today had it not been for my annoying supportive husband.  And God once again whispered to my heart.  “I’ve got you covered, young one.  Just enjoy the ride…and stop complaining when your husband brags on you.”

I feel like I’m getting a lot of those whispers lately.  And a few slaps upside the head.

Moving is hard.  But right now, in this moment, I’m kind of enjoying the ride.

Thank you for riding this roller coaster with us and praying us from one side to the other.

*For more awesome pictures of my kids, and my nephews, visit my sister-in-law’s blog.  Not only is Becke’ an amazing photographer, but she is a spectacular writer as well.  She inspires me.  You can see more of her photography here.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Florida, Kids, Lee, Life Tagged With: , , , ,
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