Life | Page 12 | Minivans Are Hot

Me them then…or is it them me now?

September 15, 2011 by Kelli

I engaged in a bit of retail therapy yesterday. After a day on the battleground called motherhood, I escaped for a few hours into the Mecca of all home furnishing stores. Did you know the power that four simple little letters can wield?

IKEA.

Say it slow. Let it roll off the tongue.

I-K-E-A.

I rolled a cart through the golden aisles, little fairies giggling and blowing pixie dust on me as I danced past. When I entered the showroom, a beam of light appeared from nowhere casting an ethereal glow across the cheap, yet terribly stylish, furnishings.

I actually think walking through there made a few of my wrinkles disappear.

I found something I loved in every room. I bought Christmas presents for Tia and resisted the urge to grab the arm of the woman in yellow beside me and shake it in excited glee. Oh the organizational wonderment to behold!

I ate Swedish meatballs in the silence of my reverie, all while visually digesting the wonderment that stood before me. It was like being at the spa, only no strangers were touching me and it didn’t require the sacrifice of my first born to afford it.

I left with a few treasures in my basket and a considerable amount of satisfaction at how much I got for the amount. I piled my treasures in the back of my (smokin’ hot) minivan and off we drive toward the glowing orange orb in the sky.

It was as beautiful an evening as one 30-something could possibly experience.

As I made my way down the road, I slowed to a stop at a red light (always a good idea). I glanced in my side mirror to see a truck in the lane to my left stopping next to the car that was directly behind me. Inside the rusted truck were two girls who didn’t look old enough to be wearing makeup, much less operating a vehicle. They motioned wildly at the older gentleman in the car next to them so he rolled down his window.

“Hey there, Grandpa,” the girl in the passenger seat yelled, smacking her gum with the force of a perturbed cow. “You’re pretty cute.” Head thrown back. *giggle, giggle, giggle*

The poor old man shook his head and rolled his window back up. The girls drove forward and pulled up alongside me. I had my window down and the radio blasted all the current Christian hits of today. I bobbed my head up and down to the beat and drummed my fingers on the side of the car. I rarely drive with the windows down these days, but last night was so perfect I couldn’t resist.

Giggle tweeny bopper looked my way and I tried to ignore.

“Hey,” she called, still giggling uncontrollably. It was the silly giggle that reveals complete and total immaturity. I turned her way and smiled.

“Hey,” I said back with a grin. “How are you guys doing tonight?”

The driver laughed. I briefly contemplated asking her to give me proof that she was indeed old enough to drive. “We are, like, so. great.” She said. Her words were emphasized with two smacks of her Hubba Bubba. Whoa…they were doing great.

“So what are you up to?” Giggly asked. And just then the light turned green and the line of cars began to slowly move. I waved as the Silly Mobile pulled forward with a squeal – was it the tires or the girls?

And then I laughed. It was the knowing laugh that completely solidifies you as a full blown grown up.

The total lack of respect for others aside, those girls reminded me a little bit of myself. I remembered the day that my best friend Lindsey and I, also both barely legal to drive, made the trek from our house to a friend’s out in the sticks of St. Louis. We had the windows down and our music blaring and we hung our heads and arms out the windows laughing uncontrollably and altogether reveling in our youth.

Life was a joyride. It was a wind in your hair, laugh at the world adventure. We were silly and crazy and completely free of the responsibility of adulthood. There weren’t children or husbands or mortgages or bills.

I can honestly say that at that moment in my life, the very last thing I wanted to spend my hard earned money on was a kitchen scrub brush and a watering can.

Home furnishings weren’t exciting. Freedom was exciting. The wind whipping by as we headed to the Lake was exciting. Life was a grand adventure just at the tip of our fingers. And as those girls peeled out, shrieking with laughter at…um, nothing…I shook my head. They are me back then.

And as I glanced at the IKEA bag glimmering in the evening sun next to me, I let out another laugh. I am them now…or not long from now. The wind still whips through my hair and my music is still loud. Only, more often than not, the music is sung by talking vegetables and my minivan is loaded with practical things like kitchen scrub brushes and watering cans…and place mats. Really, really cute place mats.

Life is still an adventure, isn’t it? I think it might even be a little more grand.

Someday those silly little girls will understand.

Filed Under: Florida, funny stuff that happens, Life, Minivans, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: Growing up, IKEA, Life, Youth

I remember

September 10, 2011 by Kelli

I will never, ever forget.

I remember every sight, every smell. I remember the tears shed and the words spoken. I remember the feel of the carpet as I fell to my knees and the heat of my tears as they fell to the floor.

I remember the thud of my heart as I watched my countrymen launch themselves from the windows and fall to their deaths. I remember calling out to God, wondering what His creation must have felt and thought as they pushed away from the burning building.

I remember fear.

I remember each moment of that morning as if it were a slow motion reel in my head.

The replayed images leave me equal parts horrified and honored.

Horrified to think it all really happened. Honored to be an American.

I remember.

I will never, ever forget.

Image credit

Filed Under: Life, Random Tagged With: 9/11, Remembrance

The eyes to see

September 5, 2011 by Kelli

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: All's Grace, Ann Voskamp, faith, Life, Love

No Bimbo’s for me, thank you

September 1, 2011 by Kelli

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: kids and tv, reality tv, television

First Day of School: Homeschool Edition

August 30, 2011 by Kelli

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: education, First Day of School, Homeschool, Kids

On Eve, Valentino and that Juicy Red Apple

August 29, 2011 by Kelli

The heat of the day made the walk pleasant, the sun lighting my face and quickening my step. An unexpected blessing of a weekend, added to my list of gifts, made my steps light – my heart full. Life, when looking through the glasses of thankfulness, is no more than a series of gifts strung together. Thank you, Ann Voskamp, for helping me to better see and understand that.

I walked Rodeo Drive with wide eyes, unaccustomed to strolling amidst such wealth. I came upon the Coach store and stepped inside, the girl in me clapping her hands with excitement. I don’t even carry a purse – never have. But I appreciate them and have convinced myself that I could learn to love it if the purse was made of spun gold, as I imagine the Coach purses to be.

I strolled and oohed and aahed. I touched, but only with one finger. There were no prices on the shimmery bags, a clear sign that I was out of my league. But the looking was all I needed. I lowered my ten doller sunglasses back down over my eyes and continued my walk. I stepped into the Yves Saint Laurent shop and a sales person walked up to me with a smile.

“Can I help you find anything in particular?” she asked, her white California teeth glistening in the golden California sun.

“No,” I replied. “I’m just here to dream.” I didn’t ask her to tell me exactly how to pronounce the name of the store. Didn’t want to seem that much of a country bumpkin. Yez Saint Laurent? Y’ Vez Saint Laurent? Vez Saint Laurent? Is there a silent Y? I JUST DON’TO KNOW!

And she smiled knowingly. I think a lot of people come into these stores to dream, and maybe touch with one finger.

I moved on. Gucci. I found an outfit for Tia and texted Lee. “For one month’s mortgage, I can get Tia a spectacular outfit at Gucci. Whatcha think? Huh? Huh?” I finished it with a good old fashioned smiley face emoticon so he wouldn’t know I was serious. Didn’t want to send the poor man into panic mode thinking the glitz and glam of tinseltown had gone to my head.

He, shockingly, responded with, “Nyet. No.” Oooohhh…No in two languages. He was serious. Maybe he didn’t understand my emoticon? I moved on. I came to Valentino and stopped, sucking in my breath. The gowns in the window were stunning. Really, really stunning. I stared for a long time, my heart racing, before finally pulling myself away. From there I walked to the GAP and bought a pair of shorts for 50% off.

That’s how I roll.

As Lee and I drove home from church yesterday, me in a zombie-like stupor from lack of sleep (the red eye flight home was not my friend), I mentioned my momentary affair with Valentino’s gowns.

“What is it about those gowns that makes them any different from a dress you could buy at Banana Republic or Dillards?” Lee asked. And then I cried in shame. Naw…I kid. But I do think my eyes spaced out for a minute. “As a girl, when I see those gowns I immediately begin to dream,” I answered all mooney.

“About what?” my manly man asked.

“What it must be like to even have an occasion for such a dress. What it must feel like to be a princess for a night. How it would feel to slip one of those gowns on and walk out the door. I just…dream.”

“And the Coach bags?” Lee asked. “What is it about them that makes them any better than a purse from K-Mart? Is the functionality any different?”

Hmph…Boys.

“No. The functionality is not that different, except that maybe a Coach bag will last forever and a K-Mart bag will last six months. But that’s not the point,” I answered.

“So what’s the point?” I could sense his consternation.

“The point is, Coach bags are so preeeetty.” And then I sighed. They are pretty.

We drove in silence for a few minutes before Lee spoke again. “This is why the serpant went after Eve in the garden, you know,” he said with a grin. “He held that shiney red apple up and Eve immediately felt her heart grow mushy.”

I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. He’s right. Shiney things make us girls act…like girls.

“And Adam is like every other guy who loves his girl in the world. She held it up and told him she wanted it and he just nodded his head. I would have said yes, by the way, if you called me up from LA and told me you wanted to buy a Coach bag. Because I want you to have that princess feeling and I want you to have nice things that make you happy.”

Go ahead. I know you want to say it. Aaaaawwwww…

It’s amazing what power we as women can have over our husbands, isn’t it? Knowing that they do want good things for us. The Prince wants to take his Princess to the ball, to show her off. My point here, of course, is not whether or not purchasing a Coach bag or a Valentino gown is right or wrong. I don’t have any problem with people doing either one of those things. For me, at this phase of life we’re in, such purchases would not be wise. It would place unnecessary financial burden on us. But maybe someday…

The point is this: My husband (and probably yours) would do whatever it takes to make me feel like a princess because he wants to give me the Garden. He wants me to have the best and if I’m not careful, I could manipulate him in such a way that I got all the pretty things I ever wanted. But…at what price?

“I don’t expect those things from you,” I told him quietly. “I wouldn’t be comfortable in a $1,500 dress anyway. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to dream every once in awhile.”

The truth is, I’m not sure the apple is always worth it. It sure wasn’t in the garden. The apple was beautiful, a vibrant red shining in the warm afternoon sun. A diamond. Eve touched – with just one finger? Unfortunately she didn’t stop there. She plunged her teeth into the center and I have no doubt that apple tasted as good as it looked.

But the price was far greater than she imagined.

It’s a loose analogy, but the point is this – we ladies have more power than we realize over our husbands. Your man wants to be your Prince – what is the price he must pay to do that?

Image Credit

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Lee, Life, Marriage, Travel Tagged With: Eve, Marriage, The Garden, Valentino

On forgiveness

August 18, 2011 by Kelli

One of my favorite Sassy Bloggers (we should form a club…), Jessica, posted her Plank Pullin’ series today. I like this series. I admire Jessica’s courage to put her planks out there. You’ll notice I haven’t put any out there myself. There are two reasons for this:

– I’m lazy

– I’m a scaredy cat

BOOM!

But Jessica’s post today hit a particularly raw nerve with me. Forgiveness. It’s such a loaded word, isn’t it? It requires action and intention no matter what end of it you’re on. If you’re the one needing forgiveness, you must intentionally act. If you are the one to extend forgiveness you must intentionally act.

Sometimes you must do both…at the same time.

Oh forgiveness…why dost thou tease me so?

One thing I have always valued highly, a trait that was instilled by my parents, has been loyalty. I value loyalty over just about everything else. I believe in it and I try hard to live by it.

Because loyalty is so important to me, restoring relationships that have been damaged is also important. It pains me to my core to think that I have ever offended someone and generally I will go to great lengths to try and restore that relationship. Sometimes this is hard. It requires the swallowing of the pride. And my pride?

It can be a big pill to swallow.

Huge.

Ginormous.

Megatronic.

You get the picture…

Even if I don’t understand my offense against someone, I try to make it right. When Lee and I were newly married we made our first married couple friends at our church in Texas. We had barbeque’s and took walks with this couple feeling ever so grown up and…married. They were our closest, and only, married friends in town. Or so I thought.

Lee came home from work one day and gave me a look. “I talked with Bowzer* today,” he said. “We have a problem.”

“What?” I asked.

“Princess Pea* thinks you don’t like her. She feels offended because you have never called her to get together one on one.”

*Names changed to protect the innocent. But wouldn’t it be funny to have friends named Bowzer and Princess Pea? I bet they’d be a really fun couple…Can you tell my kids have been playing a lot of Super Mario Bros?

Now, let the record show that I think this is a silly little thing to get upset about. I did then and I still do. But that wasn’t the point – the point was that I had somehow inadvertently offended someone and in doing so a friendship was damaged. Never mind the fact that I am suckalicious at talking on the phone – always have been. That’s why I don’t call people very often.

Suck.a.li.cious.

I sat on this for a few days mulling over what to do. I mean, it really was kind of petty. Because the fact of the matter was this girl had never called me either. But I couldn’t feel right if I didn’t at least call and make things right. So I did. It was terribly awkward and uncomfortable, but I asked her forgiveness for hurting her feelings and asked if she’d like to get together for coffee.

We never did do that. And I haven’t heard from that couple in almost ten years now. So the issue obviously wasn’t mine, but I felt better knowing I had tried to make things right. I wanted forgiveness, truly and deeply.

Recently another issue has cropped up that has affected me a bit. A friendship ruined over something silly, trivial and petty. I tried to make it right and instead met resistance.

Hurtful.

Painful.

And unity was not restored but was, instead, further denied. And I had a part in it. That makes me sad.

I don’t like that. I hate disunity with others. I want it to be right. I feel all Monica Gellar…I want her to like me, dang it. (Five points to anyone who remembers that FRIENDS episode) And I keep questioning myself, looking inside, trying to decide what action I need to take to restore unity. But I’m a little scared, because last time I tried that it only got worse.

Forgiveness.

It’s a tough one, isn’t it? Forgiving, moving forward and loving unconditionally. Whew. As Jessica put it:

“It’s one thing to forgive someone and a whole ‘nother thing to be reconciled with them, and Christians can be so dad blame unrepentant of their arrogance, or unhospitality, or fill-in-the-blank that I occasionally find a very hard time building bridges with them.

And yeah, I’m on the guilty/unrepentant end sometimes, too.”

So on I press, ever aware of the fact that I am only responsible for my own actions. How can I live today in a way that restores unity and peace with others? Because I value loyalty. I don’t like to end or walk away from friendships.

So what is my plank?

I think it is my indignation when others don’t value loyalty as I do. I tend to get judgemental. I don’t like it. I’m constantly working on dying to myself and I am an admitted work in progress.

My deepest desire is to continue to search my own heart and seek to live whole with others, making things right when I offend and offering grace if ever needed. And drop the judgement. It’s very unbecoming.

It doesn’t match any of my outfits.

So Jessica, consider that my first plank pulled.

BOOM!

Filed Under: Blogging, faith, Life Tagged With: faith, Forgiveness, Friendship, Loyalty, Plank Pullin'

Scenes from a Summer

August 16, 2011 by Kelli

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: Boating, Florida, Life is good, summer fun with kids, Vacation

Sunsets with Friends

August 14, 2011 by Kelli

The doorbell rang and I answered, my four month old tucked snugly in the crook of my arm.

“Trick or Treat,” he cried, thrusting out his bag. He was three, dressed as a Power Ranger…or something like that. I pulled Sloan close and tossed some candy into the bag, his eager little face lit with joy. Sloan was dressed as a lion. Cruelly, I had even drawn whiskers on his chubby little infant face.

“Hi, I’m Carol,” she said reaching around the stroller to shake my hand. I also shook her husband’s hand and cooed over their brand new baby girl. We were fairly new to the neighborhood. Having only moved in a week after Sloan was born, I had spent the first several months in first time parents survival mode. I didn’t know many neighbors.

But here they were on my doorstep. And over the next few years, our relationship deepened. We borrowed sugar and eggs and carpooled to preschool. We celebrated birthdays and mourned the loss of beloved pets. We loved and lived and grew together. We created memories in the cul de sac and a beautiful thing happened:

Our children developed lifelong friends.

Three months ago, Carol came over and sat with me on my back porch. I forgot to mention one other shared love we had with these dear neighbors and friends:

Florida.

“So we’re really feeling like God is leading us to Florida,” she said. And I stared back my mouth gaped open. “Um…Lee is in Tampa right now interviewing for a job,” I told her. They were words I hadn’t been able to utter to anyone else.

“We’re thinking about going to Tampa too,” she said with a smile.

Saturday night we sat together and watched our children play as we’ve done countless times over the last eight years. Only this time…they were playing at the beach. Mike and Carol moved into their house last week. When it’s all said and done we will likely live within 15 minutes of one another.

One of the biggest surprises in this move has been the fear that crept in and pounced upon us like a lion in the night. We weren’t prepared to confront the attack. The questions that came up sent us into a tailspin. Did we make the right choice? Are we really supposed to be here? What were we thinking? Will life ever feel normal again?

The deepest sadness I felt was saying goodbye to the people who had known my children since the day they were born. People who visited us in the hospital and watched our children grow from chubby babies to tall, lanky little people. There is something special about having your children surrounded by people who have known them from day one. And I mourned the loss of that. Our move here felt like the end of such a blessing.

Why do I worry? Why do I fear?

This weekend, God gave us what can only be described as a miracle. We had a perfect sunset in the place that is to be our new home with comforts from our old home. By our side were people who had known our children from infancy. They’ve watched our children grow and we have watched theirs. And our hearts rejoiced as all those questions melted into the ocean with the sun. Rays of hope splayed across the sky.

As daylight faded into darkness and the past faded into tomorrow, I once again heard the whispers. “I was here before you and I will remain. The path is laid out before you and blessings abound.”

And we did count our blessings that night. They were wrapped in the rhythmic waves of the ocean, full of giggles. Friends from afar brought near. Love poured forth. Peace beyond what we can understand. Grace and mercy in the sand – dancing in the moonlight.

A lifetime of memories still to be made.

Anybody else want to join us?

Filed Under: faith, Family, Florida, Life, Moving Tagged With: Florida, God's Blessings, moving, Sunsets

Whispers

August 2, 2011 by Kelli

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.