I kind of have a love/hate relationship with hosting/entertaining/cooking/baking. I like people. I especially like one on one meaningful conversations. I also like baking and cooking.
It's the combination of the two inside my home that brings on the icky feeling.
I like the idea of hosting guests with ease in my beautiful home and offering an assortment of strategically garnished dishes. Can you see me lingering at the table without a care in the world? (I can't either.) I don't like it so much when the IDEA turns into an INVITATION.
I envy those women who can casually put out a spread and host on a moments notice and ENJOY it. I need time. I devour cookbooks and check out recipe ratings. I clean my house like there is a For Sale sign out front.
Even then I feel naked when I open the door. My tried and true "entertaining" dishes betray me and turn out Fear Factor-ish. They look ugly and taste not-quite-right. I notice the imperfections in my home. My home doesn't reflect me like I want it to.
When it is just me and my hubby, Oldest, Middleson, and BabyBoy, I bake and cook like a mad woman -- almost everything from scratch. We eat well. We eat together. We ENJOY! My house is tidy and organized and we are content.
Content until....
Content until I invite someone over because I want to host. Because the Bible tells me to be hospitable. Because I want to come face to face with one of my weaknesses. Because it is an area that is not a strongsuit, but I am willing to improve.
I am hoping to fall in love. So far it hasn't happened. I need lessons or something. Hosting Lessons. Cooking for Real People Outside of Your Family Lessons. Stay Relaxed Lessons. You Don't Have to Be Perfect Lessons.
Sometimes it is just easier to stay home and watch Fear Factor. I'm too stubborn to do that. Practice makes closer-to-perfect.
Anyone up for coming to the BoysTurf for dinner?
Mommyontheboysturf with her three sons
Friday, October 7, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Mommy and the Victorious, Peaceful, Just Right Day
After reporting yesterday's news about Middleson's no good, very bad,horrible, terrible day, we headed for the library. Shortly after noon, during lunch, I read the book to the boys for the FIRST time. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day. A classic. One of my favorites.
They loved Alexander's adventure through his terrible day. After reading the book we talked about having a positive attitude. Maybe, just maybe, if Alexander told himself over and over that he would have a good day, he would have had a different perspective or found something positive in the midst of an "off" day.
Oldest, Middleson, and I took that as a challend to re-write the story in positive terms.
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.
Oldest and the Absolutely, Positively Good Day
I woke up and saw a $3 million dollar Bugatti out my window and a big dirt bike. At lunch I ate nachos and cheese. I knew it was going to be an absolutely, positively, good day.
My dad came home early and brought pizza for dinner. I got to stay up late, eat popcorn, and watch a movie.
It was an absolutely, positively good day.
The End
Middleson's Very Good, Out of this World, Crazy Good Day
I woke up to find a new new Lego set!! I went to clean my books and I found a cool new book. For lunch we had macaroni and cheese. I wanted to build my new Lego set which was a new police station with four trucks and a car, but I also wanted to read my book. So then I had a fabulous idea. I would build all four cars and push them and make my new book a jump. Then I read my crazy good book. Daddy came home and brought me a red dirt bike just the way I wanted it. We had chocolate sandwiches for dinner and chocolate ice cream sodas for dessert. I had a very good, out of this world, crazy good day.
The End
Note from Mommy: The above stories are FICTION!
Mommy and the Victorious, Peaceful, Just-Right Day
I woke up fully refreshed and energized before my alarm even rang. My hair stayed in perfect form even after sleeping. No bed-head. Ta Da! The automatic timer on the coffee pot brewed my coffee and poured it for me as I walked into the kitchen. I could tell this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
After breakfast I laced my new shoes and they made me run so fast. I even got my laundry washed and hung before the sun came up. Once again, I could tell this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
My boys suited up in full protective armor without me asking. Knee pads. Helmets. Socks and shoes. No trips to the emergency room. I knew this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just-right day.
Imagine my surprise when Babyboy asked for an afternoon nap. "Cwib upstas." The big boys read quietly for hours on end and entertained themselves. I read a magazine, sipped tea, and polished my toe nails.
At dinner everyone cheered when I presented a platter of vegetables -- eggplant, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, carrots, and green beans straight from the garden. Even hubby was delighted about the lack of meat on his plate. With smiling faces each person cleared their spot and put their dishes in the dishwasher. There was nothing left for me to do! I knew all along this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
Last, but definitely not least, dinner concluded with a full marching band playing a victory march to all the hard work I had done throughout the day.
Chant it with me now --
Thank you for doing the laundry
Thank you for making the meals
Thank you for running errands
and Thank you for teaching school
[Repeat again and again and again]
Success. Sweet Success. From sunrise to sunset. I knew this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
Another note from MOMMY: In case you wondered, the above story is also FICTION.
They loved Alexander's adventure through his terrible day. After reading the book we talked about having a positive attitude. Maybe, just maybe, if Alexander told himself over and over that he would have a good day, he would have had a different perspective or found something positive in the midst of an "off" day.
Oldest, Middleson, and I took that as a challend to re-write the story in positive terms.
Oldest and the Absolutely, Positively Good Day
I woke up and saw a $3 million dollar Bugatti out my window and a big dirt bike. At lunch I ate nachos and cheese. I knew it was going to be an absolutely, positively, good day.
My dad came home early and brought pizza for dinner. I got to stay up late, eat popcorn, and watch a movie.
It was an absolutely, positively good day.
The End
Middleson's Very Good, Out of this World, Crazy Good Day
I woke up to find a new new Lego set!! I went to clean my books and I found a cool new book. For lunch we had macaroni and cheese. I wanted to build my new Lego set which was a new police station with four trucks and a car, but I also wanted to read my book. So then I had a fabulous idea. I would build all four cars and push them and make my new book a jump. Then I read my crazy good book. Daddy came home and brought me a red dirt bike just the way I wanted it. We had chocolate sandwiches for dinner and chocolate ice cream sodas for dessert. I had a very good, out of this world, crazy good day.
The End
Note from Mommy: The above stories are FICTION!
Mommy and the Victorious, Peaceful, Just-Right Day
I woke up fully refreshed and energized before my alarm even rang. My hair stayed in perfect form even after sleeping. No bed-head. Ta Da! The automatic timer on the coffee pot brewed my coffee and poured it for me as I walked into the kitchen. I could tell this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
After breakfast I laced my new shoes and they made me run so fast. I even got my laundry washed and hung before the sun came up. Once again, I could tell this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
My boys suited up in full protective armor without me asking. Knee pads. Helmets. Socks and shoes. No trips to the emergency room. I knew this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just-right day.
Imagine my surprise when Babyboy asked for an afternoon nap. "Cwib upstas." The big boys read quietly for hours on end and entertained themselves. I read a magazine, sipped tea, and polished my toe nails.
At dinner everyone cheered when I presented a platter of vegetables -- eggplant, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, carrots, and green beans straight from the garden. Even hubby was delighted about the lack of meat on his plate. With smiling faces each person cleared their spot and put their dishes in the dishwasher. There was nothing left for me to do! I knew all along this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
Last, but definitely not least, dinner concluded with a full marching band playing a victory march to all the hard work I had done throughout the day.
Chant it with me now --
Thank you for doing the laundry
Thank you for making the meals
Thank you for running errands
and Thank you for teaching school
[Repeat again and again and again]
Success. Sweet Success. From sunrise to sunset. I knew this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.
Another note from MOMMY: In case you wondered, the above story is also FICTION.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Middleson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Yesterday was an emotional day for Middleson. Like Alexander, he had a terrible, no good, very bad day. With three boys, the drama in our home is minimal. The boys take after their daddy -- even keel and stable. Admittedly, any drama is probably stirred up by the only female on our turf -- yours truly.
Yesterday was different. It started at breakfast when Middleson retrieved the previous nights dinner that he was too full to eat. Interestingly enough, it was only the vegetables he was too full to consume. Lest you think I am a harshmommyontheboysturf, it was two green beans. Therefore, two green beans were offered for breakfast along with a side of his tears, followed by a steaming bowl of oatmeal with extra raisins.
Moments later another breakdown during his Unit Review for Math. He struggled through math problems that he solved easily the day before. Hugs required.
Then it was his Language Arts book. "When I just look at my Language Arts book, I miss Auntie W," he sobbed. I am still trying to figure out that connection. Perhaps it was the game of Scrabble we played togther a few weeks ago just before leaving Auntie W's home. Another long hug needed and given.
Later, trying to cheer him up, I flew his plastic Superman figure past his face. I missed and poked him in the eye with Superman's much-too-hard foot. Some Superhero. Some Supermom. Oops. Hugs and apologies from me in abundance.
An arranged call to Auntie W brought some relief and comfort thankfully. Middleson suggested that maybe pancakes (Auntie W's recipe) would cheer him up just a little. More hugs and pancakes-a-plenty.
After dinner he wanted to snuggle and read, just him and I. He tore back the covers on my bed and we read books covered in coziness. Even when Daddy and Oldest were heard outside playing football, he wanted to stay a few minutes longer.
Before bed he recounted all the times he had cried during the day. He reminded me that I gave him a strange look when he was eating his oatmeal noisily. I hurt his feelings and he had cried then too.
"Mommy, I know you get up real early and pray. Tomorrow when you pray could you pray that tomorrow I have a better day? And, you know how you hugged me so many times today when I cried? Could we do that again tomorrow?"
Sure thing Middleson! Here's to a great day with more hugs than you can count.
Yesterday was different. It started at breakfast when Middleson retrieved the previous nights dinner that he was too full to eat. Interestingly enough, it was only the vegetables he was too full to consume. Lest you think I am a harshmommyontheboysturf, it was two green beans. Therefore, two green beans were offered for breakfast along with a side of his tears, followed by a steaming bowl of oatmeal with extra raisins.
Moments later another breakdown during his Unit Review for Math. He struggled through math problems that he solved easily the day before. Hugs required.
Then it was his Language Arts book. "When I just look at my Language Arts book, I miss Auntie W," he sobbed. I am still trying to figure out that connection. Perhaps it was the game of Scrabble we played togther a few weeks ago just before leaving Auntie W's home. Another long hug needed and given.
Later, trying to cheer him up, I flew his plastic Superman figure past his face. I missed and poked him in the eye with Superman's much-too-hard foot. Some Superhero. Some Supermom. Oops. Hugs and apologies from me in abundance.
An arranged call to Auntie W brought some relief and comfort thankfully. Middleson suggested that maybe pancakes (Auntie W's recipe) would cheer him up just a little. More hugs and pancakes-a-plenty.
After dinner he wanted to snuggle and read, just him and I. He tore back the covers on my bed and we read books covered in coziness. Even when Daddy and Oldest were heard outside playing football, he wanted to stay a few minutes longer.
Before bed he recounted all the times he had cried during the day. He reminded me that I gave him a strange look when he was eating his oatmeal noisily. I hurt his feelings and he had cried then too.
"Mommy, I know you get up real early and pray. Tomorrow when you pray could you pray that tomorrow I have a better day? And, you know how you hugged me so many times today when I cried? Could we do that again tomorrow?"
Sure thing Middleson! Here's to a great day with more hugs than you can count.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Luck
I have never been a believer in luck -- good luck or bad luck. Lately, though, the trials have pounded like hard, steady rain -- a down pour. As some would say, "a string of bad luck". Nothing earth shattering, thankfully. Just the intensity of a continual set of trials. When it rains it pours.
Today I want to pull the "two year old" card and throw a good tantrum. "It's not fair! I don't like this! No! No! No!". I'd love to flirt with the comparison trap. Comparing myself to others that have it easy schmeezy -- or so it appears -- but I know better.
As a Christian, it is tempting to believe if I just pray hard enough, I can achieve the outcome I desire. I approach prayer like God is a genie in bottle with never-ending wishes to make me happy. But, like Paul said, it's about finding contentment no matter what -- even when every attempt to stand means getting knocked down again by the strong wind of trials.
Philippians 4:11-12
"I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little."
Paul learned to quit tantruming (yes, another homemade word). The wrestling match was no more. Either way, he was okay.
James 1:12 is where the rubber really meets the road for me.
"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him." Later, in the chapter I am reminded that God generously gives me wisdom. Trials and the need for wisdom are closely connected.
Trials are the "gym" for my faith. As my faith grows stronger I can withstand, endure, and persevere. There is something greater -- beyond any joy or pleasure or comfort in this world -- eternity with Christ.
Ann Voskamp's book, A Thousand Gifts, contains a quote that has changed me. "Make every moment a cathedral giving glory." Every moment can be holy if I allow my reaction/response to line up with God's Word. When I can rejoice in my trials, glory is given to my Heavenly Father. It becomes something beautiful and something that can be used. Something holy. Even the broken and ugly and fearful things. The trials that threaten to overtake me are transformed into miracles when I give thanks. Within each trial there is room for thanksgiving. I just need to search for the hidden treasure.
When the glass really is 1/2 empty I can be thankful. There is room in the cup for more. It will be 1/2 full again!
The realization that my first instinct to a trial is trust instead of panic. Luck? No. A blessing. A miracle. An opportunity for something greater than myself. Maybe what feels like "bad luck" is really "good luck". As a result of the growth process, I come out strong, able, and far beyond "lucky".
Today I want to pull the "two year old" card and throw a good tantrum. "It's not fair! I don't like this! No! No! No!". I'd love to flirt with the comparison trap. Comparing myself to others that have it easy schmeezy -- or so it appears -- but I know better.
As a Christian, it is tempting to believe if I just pray hard enough, I can achieve the outcome I desire. I approach prayer like God is a genie in bottle with never-ending wishes to make me happy. But, like Paul said, it's about finding contentment no matter what -- even when every attempt to stand means getting knocked down again by the strong wind of trials.
Philippians 4:11-12
"I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little."
Paul learned to quit tantruming (yes, another homemade word). The wrestling match was no more. Either way, he was okay.
James 1:12 is where the rubber really meets the road for me.
"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him." Later, in the chapter I am reminded that God generously gives me wisdom. Trials and the need for wisdom are closely connected.
Trials are the "gym" for my faith. As my faith grows stronger I can withstand, endure, and persevere. There is something greater -- beyond any joy or pleasure or comfort in this world -- eternity with Christ.
Ann Voskamp's book, A Thousand Gifts, contains a quote that has changed me. "Make every moment a cathedral giving glory." Every moment can be holy if I allow my reaction/response to line up with God's Word. When I can rejoice in my trials, glory is given to my Heavenly Father. It becomes something beautiful and something that can be used. Something holy. Even the broken and ugly and fearful things. The trials that threaten to overtake me are transformed into miracles when I give thanks. Within each trial there is room for thanksgiving. I just need to search for the hidden treasure.
When the glass really is 1/2 empty I can be thankful. There is room in the cup for more. It will be 1/2 full again!
The realization that my first instinct to a trial is trust instead of panic. Luck? No. A blessing. A miracle. An opportunity for something greater than myself. Maybe what feels like "bad luck" is really "good luck". As a result of the growth process, I come out strong, able, and far beyond "lucky".
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Turf Time minus the running, swimming, biking
30minutesontheboysturf took on an interesting twist this week. Saturday night a slow-motion, nothin'-crazy, how-did-this-happen bike accident sent Middleson to the emergency room for yet another set of stitches. I wonder if he is strategically placing scars around his body as some sort of boy body art.
Doctors orders -- Ten 10 TEN T-E-N days of NO swimming!, NO running!, NO biking! How do you do that in August when the Summer weeks of play are dwindling and school is just around the corner?
Mom's orders -- have the best 10 days possible while preventing further injury or infection.
I feel like I am living life with my seat belt on this week. The weather is beyond beautiful -- breezy, sunny, and perfect temperatures. This is the week to hike and take our 10 mile bike rides.
But Middleson.
We changed our plan -- two library visits and reading on blankets in the back yard; Middleson and Babyboy in the jog stroller for a few walks; playing in tents on the driveway; and, of course, Lego building in the basement.
As Middleson reminds me often, "God's delays are always for a reason."
We'll take this one in stride and look forward to Tuesday's removal of the stitches and the permission to swim, bike, and run!
Doctors orders -- Ten 10 TEN T-E-N days of NO swimming!, NO running!, NO biking! How do you do that in August when the Summer weeks of play are dwindling and school is just around the corner?
Mom's orders -- have the best 10 days possible while preventing further injury or infection.
I feel like I am living life with my seat belt on this week. The weather is beyond beautiful -- breezy, sunny, and perfect temperatures. This is the week to hike and take our 10 mile bike rides.
But Middleson.
We changed our plan -- two library visits and reading on blankets in the back yard; Middleson and Babyboy in the jog stroller for a few walks; playing in tents on the driveway; and, of course, Lego building in the basement.
As Middleson reminds me often, "God's delays are always for a reason."
We'll take this one in stride and look forward to Tuesday's removal of the stitches and the permission to swim, bike, and run!
Friday, July 22, 2011
The Worry Dance
Laboring and spinning and worrying, laboring and spinning and worrying, round and round I go. This is precisely how I started my day. Even the flowers of the field know better. My very first awake, pillow-thought was one of worry. Side by side, was another thought I whispered gently and quietly as to not disrupt the morning's peace. "Worry is a sin, the Bible tells me NOT to worry. I am going to read my Bible and counteract these worrisome thoughts."
Why I have elevated worry to a "more holy" sin I am not sure. Do not kill, do not lie, do not worry. I've certainly justified worrying in my life since I am sure it indicates my love and concern for those I love. Right?
Downstairs I went, one step at a time, each a reminder, "Do not worry. Do not worry." After retrieving my Bible and a hot cup of dark roast, I settled down to do a word study on "worry".
My well-worn, much-loved Study Bible has a concordance. I found out today that it ends with "woman". The last entry on the last page. Apparently, along with a few stickers, the last few pages of my concordance were ripped out probably by an awake-much-too-early toddler sitting on my lap with flying ripping fingers. Since I have no recollection of the event, I guarantee I was sleep deprived too.
Worry has been ripped out from my Bible. Thankfully, my mind knew where to go in moments like these. Matthew chapter 6.
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
I love the practical nature of this passage. I can actually replace WORRYING with SEEKING! Worry might be natural. But, the lack of worry is super-natural. It is possible with God. Seeking is to be "continually absorbed in searching for something; making a strenuous effort to obtain something". I can do the worry dance or seek Him to care for me. Unproductive vs. Productive. Unlike breathing, both take effort and thought and time. Why not choose the better thing?
For today, I will take a clue from my Bible and its lack of worry. I will thank God for the vivid illustration of worry being ripped from my life. It has no place. For I have a heavenly Father who knows what I need and He cares for me.
I gracefully refuse to dance this worry dance -- a partner I do not need. Instead I will rest in the embrace of His great love.
Why I have elevated worry to a "more holy" sin I am not sure. Do not kill, do not lie, do not worry. I've certainly justified worrying in my life since I am sure it indicates my love and concern for those I love. Right?
Downstairs I went, one step at a time, each a reminder, "Do not worry. Do not worry." After retrieving my Bible and a hot cup of dark roast, I settled down to do a word study on "worry".
My well-worn, much-loved Study Bible has a concordance. I found out today that it ends with "woman". The last entry on the last page. Apparently, along with a few stickers, the last few pages of my concordance were ripped out probably by an awake-much-too-early toddler sitting on my lap with flying ripping fingers. Since I have no recollection of the event, I guarantee I was sleep deprived too.
Worry has been ripped out from my Bible. Thankfully, my mind knew where to go in moments like these. Matthew chapter 6.
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
I love the practical nature of this passage. I can actually replace WORRYING with SEEKING! Worry might be natural. But, the lack of worry is super-natural. It is possible with God. Seeking is to be "continually absorbed in searching for something; making a strenuous effort to obtain something". I can do the worry dance or seek Him to care for me. Unproductive vs. Productive. Unlike breathing, both take effort and thought and time. Why not choose the better thing?
For today, I will take a clue from my Bible and its lack of worry. I will thank God for the vivid illustration of worry being ripped from my life. It has no place. For I have a heavenly Father who knows what I need and He cares for me.
I gracefully refuse to dance this worry dance -- a partner I do not need. Instead I will rest in the embrace of His great love.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Within Arms Reach
Today was a scorcher even as the sun rose. My morning run like mid-day heat. Hot. Sticky. Our mid-morning bike ride quickly interrupted by, "Can we turn around and go home? I'm thirsty!". The sun's rays darkening the shoulders of my boys before my eyes. Summer is here.
Just moment's later I'm shearing my blondies' heads like hot, sweaty, sheep outside. Instead of falling to the ground, the fresh wisps land on dewy skin, staying put, refusing to fall. The clouds rolled in, the sky darkened and everything stilled.
"I think we are gonna have a storm." Middleson stated. "I'll check the weather." Oldest piped in, always ready to help. Sweaty Babyboy with a big boy haircut sleeping soundly. My almost-dried clothes flapping frantically on the clothesline as if trying to beat themselves dry in record time. The wind awoke.
Oldest and I ran up and down the line tossing clothes and pins in the basket, laughing as we went. Just in time. Moments later, the thunder clapped and lightening flashed. The house, once sunny and bright, dark like night.
Feeling a little frightened myself, I considered Babyboy. He really really needed a nap. Yet, I didn't want him to be frightened. For now the sounds in his dreams drowned out the storms surrounding him. I decided to wait outside his door. Within arms reach if he needed me. If the storm sounded too loudly, I'd let him know mommy was near.
Crouched on the floor, waiting by the door, I pondered other storms I've been through. Real storms. Life storms. The ones that shake you and throw you and toss you about.
I pictured Jesus, just waiting and ready to let me know He was there. Within arms reach. Daddy is near.
Just moment's later I'm shearing my blondies' heads like hot, sweaty, sheep outside. Instead of falling to the ground, the fresh wisps land on dewy skin, staying put, refusing to fall. The clouds rolled in, the sky darkened and everything stilled.
"I think we are gonna have a storm." Middleson stated. "I'll check the weather." Oldest piped in, always ready to help. Sweaty Babyboy with a big boy haircut sleeping soundly. My almost-dried clothes flapping frantically on the clothesline as if trying to beat themselves dry in record time. The wind awoke.
Oldest and I ran up and down the line tossing clothes and pins in the basket, laughing as we went. Just in time. Moments later, the thunder clapped and lightening flashed. The house, once sunny and bright, dark like night.
Feeling a little frightened myself, I considered Babyboy. He really really needed a nap. Yet, I didn't want him to be frightened. For now the sounds in his dreams drowned out the storms surrounding him. I decided to wait outside his door. Within arms reach if he needed me. If the storm sounded too loudly, I'd let him know mommy was near.
Crouched on the floor, waiting by the door, I pondered other storms I've been through. Real storms. Life storms. The ones that shake you and throw you and toss you about.
I pictured Jesus, just waiting and ready to let me know He was there. Within arms reach. Daddy is near.
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