Summer Vacation

Hannah likes to play games with her Daddy about giving him hugs and kisses. The more he begs, the more she plays hard to get. Tonight before bedtime, he asked plaintively "Where's my hugs and kisses?"

She looked at him condescendingly and said, "Daddy, I told you already that all my hugs and all my kisses went away because it's summer. They're gone now."

And I thought I was the creative mind in the family!

A Girl Can't be Too Prepared!

Grace went on a hike with her dad the other day—just the two of them. On arriving home, she excitedly told me that she was "gonna be born again." Daddy quickly interjected that they had talked about Jesus and salvation on their hike. And Grace "prayed the sinner’s prayer" with him. He explained to her what it meant to be born again—that Jesus makes you new and that you start over spiritually—like a baby again. She thought this was neat, but soon moved on to other topics and didn’t bring it up again until today.

As I was going through some old clothes to give away, she discovered an outfit that she wore a couple of years ago. Being a lover of all things pink and girly, she immediately snapped it up and tried to squeeze it over her head. Much to her dismay it was too small, and I told her that she wore it when she was a baby, but that it doesn’t fit her anymore.

She thought about this for about three seconds before she quickly rolled the outfit up into a tight ball, and shoved it firmly into my hands. "Keep this for me Mama! I want you to save it for me ‘cuz when Jesus comes back to get us and I’m a baby again, I want to wear this!"

(Would that be the ten foolish virgins or the ten wise ones? :)

Who else but my Grace would plan her wardrobe for Jesus' return?

I Rest My Case

My Hannah just might be a lawyer one day. Here's my evidence.

The other day she and Grace had a little conflict. It bore investigating, so I questioned Hannah first. She listed Grace's various sins in the matter, and I made some mental notes between the lines. She seemed to be finished with her side of the story, so I began to ask Grace for hers. But before I could get my first question out, Hannah interrupted--

"Wait! I have one more detail I need to tell you." She did, and then closed her case by saying, "Ok. That's all the details. You can talk to Grace now."

Now maybe this just flew over your head, and you're saying, "I don't get this one." Let me just say, in a world where the daily vocabulary is anchored by words like "poop," "jammies," and "Whaaaaaaaah," a three year-old framing up her closing argument with a word like "details" and permission to question the next witness kind of gets your attention.

All the evidence points to lawyer, but you decide. I rest my case.

Tribute

This will not be my most exciting post, my most entertaining, or even informative. But it may be my most worthwhile.

Grandma came over tonight. Though she lives only blocks away, weeks can pass without seeing her or (to my shame) even talking to her. She is a dear lady, and is maybe the best person I know at picturing the grace of God. Tonight, she said something that I want to remember.

When I asked how her Mother's Day went, she smiled and shook her head slightly. It seems that both of her children who live here in town had other plans for the day. Seeing my shocked look, she stitched together an explanation for me, and of course they were entirely legitimate things that occupied her kids' attention. But I could see the little bit of hurt and lonliness that leaked out around the edges of her words, and the end result was still that Grandma, nearly 90, and a widow, was left to her own devices on that special day.

I was upset--that this happened, and that I hadn't invited her myself, as she would certainly have been welcome at our gathering. Seeing my frustration, Grandma went on to say this, "I am a content mother. I know none of my children would think of hurting me. . . .So, I just stayed home and had a lazy day, and I thanked God."

Now, grace has been defined for me as essentially "unearned, undeserved favor or kindness." And that is exactly what she showed her children that day. It isn't that they are mean or abusive to her, or even neglectful. But Mother's Day is Mother's Day. A mom expects or at least hopes for the nearness of her children on a day like that--the ones who are nearby anyway. I expect any lonely older widow might see that as an opportunity to be bitter, or to complain, or at least to get a little depressed. But Grandma made the most of it for herself, and thanked God. She thanked God and prayed for her children and grandchildren--off leading their own lives--even on a day meant to honor the one who gave them life in the first place.

I hope to be so gracious--to give people the benefit of the doubt like that--to thank them when I could "justifiably" be resentful. To assume--to choose to believe that no hurt is intentional. To pray for them even when I feel slighted or neglected. To thank God for all they are--for His work in their life, especially when I think maybe I deserve a little thanks too.

After all, that is what a Mom does. It is what she should do. It is what Grandma does, and it is why I honor her today.

Happy Mother's Day, Grandma! And thank you for your living example--the one you are not even aware of. I love you!