They Grow Up Fast

I knew the day would come. One day, I would teach my boy-child to mow the grass. I didn't realize it would be NOW.

I wasn't sure he was tall enough. Pushing a lawnmower is hard enough - but even more so, when it's at chest level. It's nearly impossible when the handle is over your head. But he has grown tall enough and strong enough.

He show enough respect for the mower - both in terms of using it appropriately, and having the wisdom to know to keep his hands and feet away from the spinning blades. I filled it with gas and pulled the cord. He giggled in awe with the "emergency off" in releasing the safety bar.

I guided him through the edge work of the fenced dog area. Once we'd been around, I stepped back, and let him lead. He did great.

I am so, so proud of him.

Thank You, God for my children. Help me to appreciate them NOW.... because they grow up fast!

Reunions

Well, I had the joy of hugging my kids again, since they have returned home to me safe and sound. The have tales to tell and adventures from the sun!

They are taller and tanner - but still need to be reminded not to pick on the other.

But, of course the transition back to home makes for late bedtimes, and pressing of some limits.

We've gotten settled for the night and the adventure begins again when the sun rises!

Thank You, God for my family.... for trusting these two into my care.

I am blessed beyond my wildest imaginings!

Starting the Year Right

New Year's Day morning was perfect. Absolutely perfect!

We shut our eyes shortly after we watched The Ball drop in Time Square (and hour delayed for those of us in the Central Time Zone). I tossed a little in the earlier morning, but wouldn't consider myself "awake" until about 10 am. (A good thing, as I worked the night of the 1st).

My kids, too, began stirring at that time. I could hear them puttering around, talking quietly to each other. They played a game or two, as I eavesdropped on the conversation from the warmth of my bed.

Around 10:30, my boy wandered into my bedroom to fetch the cat for his sister. He also looked searchingly into my face. He smiled when he saw my open eyes. "hi..." I said.

He ran in and hugged me, then crawled in to snuggle for a while. We chatted about New Year's Eve and how big a help he had been to his sister that morning. We told each other how grateful we were that God had chosen the other to be our mom/boy. We said "I love you"s and "Happy New Year!"s and giggled and grinned.

Not long after, his sister joined us. Then the cat.

It was a wonderful way to start the day and the year.

Thank You, God!

The Dance

I remember my heart skipping a beat the first time I heard it mentioned. It was on my answering machine, two days before camp started. Some man I didn't yet know calling to tell me the theme for the dance at camp would be "the 80's". I'm sorry, the WHAT? Fortunately, he called twice - once for each of my kids, so I had the opportunity for the idea to sink in. A dance. My kids at a dance. Oh boy...

At least I'd be there.... My thoughts then shifted to the 80's. What did we wear? I lived through those years, but certainly don't remember what we wore. I threw in a shirt for my boy and dance outfit for my girl. It would have to do.

The night arrived. After dinner, everyone scampered back to their cabins to prepare. One by one people began to gather on "the patio". I looked at their get ups. Every so often, I'd see one that I knew had nailed the period. I looked and understood why I'd repressed those memories! Yowza! Viva la "Flashdance"!!

I was also very aware that night that I was one of two people who was old enough to remember the 80's. From someone used to being "the baby" in the crowd, it was a little unsettling. When I realized that some of the kids' PARENTS were still in diapers in the early 80's, I quit pondering it so deeply.

It was warm that evening. They had brought fans and big buckets of ice water for the campers to keep cool. Once everything was prepared, it began! Songs that I haven't heard in as many years blared through the speakers. Michael Jackson. Bon Jovi. It started with an ice breaker, then some free dance time and of course a competition between the two rival groups within the camp: The Blackhawks and The Thunderbirds.

The kids laughed and danced. I wandered around taking pictures. I went in search of my son, since I know how he loves to move to music! It's usually pretty amusing! I found him with his first partner - the broom and laughed out loud. OK, this might not be so bad. I'd found my daughter with her cabin-mates circled around, dancing, until the second she saw me. She then stopped and pointed her "don't look at me!!" finger my direction.

I spent more time taking pictures, embarrassing my daughter and waving to the kids who had a tendency towards homesickness. All seemed well.

I stepped outside briefly to cool off, dab a few cotton balls in ice water to hand to the kids to help them cool off as well. Cool kids equal non-upset tummies, which equals fewer visits to me - the nurse - after the dance.

The music changed, the tempo slowed. I recognized the melody of Garth Brooks' song "The Dance". I went back inside, intending to touch base with my children to see how they were enjoying themselves.

When I saw my son, I froze. There he was, slow dancing. With. A. Girl. Now, don't get me wrong, I WANT him to dance with girls, .... one day.... I was just hoping for a little more warning. I just stood and watched for a while, totally at a loss for the right words, or even the right thoughts. Do I let him continue? Do I cut in? He was doing a good job at following the D.J.'s directions to "keep space for Jesus", and he was doing a good job at dancing. But still.... oh my.

On the tails of having finished the book on raising Godly boys in an ungodly world, it made me very aware at how quickly my children are growing up. Right before my very eyes!

I got to ask some questions later. "What's her name?" "I don't know...." "Don't you think you should?"

He got to tell me "the girls want to dance with me because they think I'm cute", which opened up a whole 'NOTHER conversation about how people look at us compared to how God looks at us. To his credit, he did know that God looks at the heart and that it's more important what God sees than what people see.

The night continued - the girls continued to fight over my boy.... literally. I continued to watch, protectively.

As he danced the last song - another slow one - again, with "room for Jesus" in between them - I stood there and prayed in ASL (American Sign Language).

"Protect my son.

Give us both wisdom.

Help me to know how and when to have the conversations we will need to have, and please, please, please give me the words..."

Off to the (Waiting) Races

I cannot even begin to tell you how proud I am of my children. They participated in the 2009 County Music Kid's Marathon.... and they did great!
It is so funny to see their personalities so clearly in an event like this, and a gift to watch them overcome potential obstacles!
We hadn't had a chance to do as much training as we should have. The kids were supposed to have walked/run 25.2 miles prior to the race, and then would complete the final mile. They crossed the same finish line that will be crossed by those running the adult marathon in the morning.

The wait was hard. We had to get their early to get parked and all. And then we waited... and we waited.... Finally, it was time for first grade boys and girls. I walked with them up to the starting point. I wasn't QUITE sure how they would do, running "alone". Their dad had texted to say he was "running in his heart" with them, and I told them I was sure they could do it and I would be cheering them on. I also gave them the last minute "don't start off too fast" reminder.

And, then, they crossed the start.... I ran for my first cheering / picture opportunity. As expected, my daughter was pulling into the lead, and my son was high-five-ing everyone who had a hand extended.

They turned up a road that they would run back down, so I stood and waited.... and waited.... and waited. I for a few minutes, I wondered if I should have run with them. My daughter is not fond of crowds, and my son is prone to spontaneous meltdowns. I waited some more. And then I saw her. In her baby-blue "Go! Fight! Win!" T-shirt, my girl - running the race! She turned the corner as I cheered wildly, and she ran toward the finish line.

Now, I waited some more... Another baby-blue Makenzie shirt - my boy! He was walking. As he got to the final turn, I cheered him on! When he saw me, he grinned real big, winked and broke out into a sprint.

I had hoped to get pictures of them crossing the finish line - but no luck... I waited to cheer the boy and missed the girl crossing. And then the boy was hard to catch.

As I got to speak to each of them after the race, there comments were characteristically them: The girl-child said "I beat him! I beat him!". The boy-child said "I high-fived EVERY hand!"

I love the differences in their personalities... those qualities that make them uniquely themselves - even if they are also the qualities that trip them up the most as well.

I am sure it is similar from God's perspective. He knows me, He adores me.... quirks and all...