Immersion Blender

It started as a normal, ordinary day. 

At noon I picked the children up from school and drove them home for lunch. While preparing their lunch, I tried out my new immersion blender—a miracle appliance in my mind. But food got stuck in the blade, and it wasn’t working as well as I knew it should. 

No problem, I thought. I’ll just remove the food.

So I did. I stuck my finger up into the blade—up under the blade—and began to scrape. And then the unexpected happened. 

The blade turned on. 

I realize, in retrospect, that my other hand hit the “on” switch. At the time all I saw—and felt—was my finger being churned by this very sharp, high-powered blade. I dropped the blender. I probably said a curse word. And then I watched as blood came gushing—literally spraying—out of my finger. 

Blood splatter was everywhere. On the floor. On the cabinets. On the countertops.  In a moment of clarity I put my finger under cold running water. I took one look at the gnawed –up flesh and panicked again. I grabbed a towel, wrapped it up, and did the only thing I knew to do. I called my husband. My compass. My sane guide through this jungle of life. 

He wasn’t there. He was out of town, in a deposition.  Completely unavailable.

At this point I was feeling very faint. I should mention that the sight and thought of blood makes me very squeamish. I lay down on the floor, in the midst of all the blood, and cried. Laila continued to play, as if the sight of mommy lying on the kitchen floor crying was perfectly normal. Connor, however, was deeply affected by it all. He was on the verge of tears himself. He brought an armful of stuffed animals to me to hold.  

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked. 

“Yes, Mommy’s fine,” I said in my bravest mommy-voice. And then I cried again.

It was at that moment that the doorbell rang. I never would have answered it, but Connor did. The ladies at the door asked for his mom.

“She’s bleeding,” he said. “She cut her finger.”

“Can we see her?” I heard them ask.

“There’s blood everywhere,” Connor replied.

At this moment I realized that I had to get up and go to the door. I can only imagine what they thought of all this. 

The ladies were from AT&T. They were so helpful and sweet that I cried again. They offered to call 9-1-1, but I told them it wasn’t that serious. 

“Well, I’m not leaving until you get in touch with someone,” one of the ladies said. And I could tell she intended to stay.

So I picked up my phone. We don’t have family in the area, so I started running through my list of friends who don’t work during the day. Our neighbors were out of town. Who to call? I wondered. 

And then I thought of my dear friend M. She is a registered nurse, and is also very good with children. She answered her phone right away, dropped all of her plans for the afternoon, and came over. She brought her mom to watch our children while she drove me to the doctor. At the doctor’s office she sat in the room with me and did her best to distract me while they cleaned the wound and stitched it up. And, as if that wasn’t enough, she returned to my house to clean up the blood, sat with me until my husband returned home from work, and had her father bring us dinner. (And wow—it was delicious! Her father may be the best cook I know.) That afternoon as the two of us sat in the back yard watching the children play, the ladies from AT&T returned.  To check on me and make sure I was ok.

I went to bed that night with a severed finger but a very warm feeling in my heart. I have no doubt that God sent those ladies to my door. He saw me lying on the floor crying. He heard my mind race as it wondered how I would ever get the kids in the car and drive to the doctor with a severed finger. He heard me fret about sitting at the doctor’s office for several hours while my kids ran wild. He knew I would never in a million years call someone because I hate to be an imposition on others. He knows my stubbornness. He knows my queasiness around blood. He knew that I had no intention of moving from that floor.

So He sent someone. Someone who cared enough to refuse to move until I took care of myself. And then He sent a friend to step in and take over all the details. She made it easy. I remember sitting at the doctor’s office thinking “I guess we’ll have to go out for dinner tonight,” and as if she read my mind she looked at me and said “My dad will bring dinner for us tonight.” It wasn’t a question. It was already decided. 

I am humbled. I didn’t do anything to earn or deserve this generosity, but at that moment I needed  it. And God stepped in. 

I am reminded of two other events in my life where events were orchestrated in such a way that I can only believe something far more powerful than me planned it out.

The first occurred when I was 16. My grandmother called my mom one Thursday to ask if we’d come visit that weekend. She hadn’t seen us in a while, she said. I remember thinking it was strange because we had just visited her the weekend before, and we didn’t see her on a weekly basis. But we didn’t ask questions. We made the one and a half hour drive that Sunday afternoon, expecting to be greeted by Grandma’s warm hug and a kitchen filled with home-cooked food.

Instead we found a note from my aunt. Grandma had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital.  As we made the twenty minute drive to the hospital, I couldn’t help but wonder if God had somehow arranged for us to be there that day to hear the news. He knew my mom needed her sisters at that moment, and a twenty minute drive would be much easier for her to bear than an hour and a half.

The other event happened four years ago. Dad was on his way to Columbia one Sunday afternoon to help me do some work on our condo (he lives three hours away). That same afternoon my husband had a stroke. Dad arrived at our house just minutes after the ambulance left. Knowing Dad was on his way, and was so close, made the entire incident easier for me to bear. I didn’t have to worry about who would watch Connor, who was two years old at the time. Dad drove me to the hospital and then took care of Connor for me. He also called my mom and told her about it. I was free to be with Lee and focus on him. Having Dad there at that moment in time made a HUGE difference for me. And I marvel when I look back at it—how God somehow managed to have Dad en route to Columbia on the day when He knew I would need someone to help.

God always shows up. Sometimes it’s in the smile and hug of a friend who comes in and takes over. Other times it’s more subtle. Sometimes it’s hard to feel Him, but He’s there. He shows up, and not just for the big events—the times when we look at a loved one and wonder if he or she will live another day. He shows up for the little things too. The cuts and scrapes and bruises and severed fingers of everyday life. The ordinary and mundane. He is there to help us, to comfort us, to love us. All we have to do is let Him.

Knitting

On an whim I decided to learn to knit.

It started a few days ago when I was playing around on the internet and stumbled across a blog about a girl who knits dishcloths. Why in the world would that catch my attention? I have no idea, but suddenly I had to knit dishcloths.

And then I began to consider the possibilities: scarves, hats, sweaters. It even occurred to me that if we ever bought a farm (like I've been dying to do for years) I could own some sheep. And spin my own yarn.

Yeah, that's how my mind works when I'm alone.

That was Monday. This morning when I woke up it was a distant memory. Until I ran into a friend and found out that she knits. Well, that did it for me. It was as if fate were tellilng me I was meant to knit. I went straight to Hobby Lobby. I was too embarrassed to tell them that I had no idea what I was doing (why do I always pretend that I know what I'm doing even when I don't?). So I picked my favorite looking yarn and bought the needles that the package told me it was sized for.

I spent the remainder of my day rewatching the same youtube video, trying to figure out how in the world the girl in the video made it look so easy. I cast on, and then as I attempted to knit, I unraveled what I had cast on. Again and again and again.

I eventually figured it out. And then my obsessive-compulsive personality took over, and I knitted row after row after row. I have no idea what I'm making, if anything. But I'm knitting.

The entire time I sat there knitting I thought about my grandmother. She didn't knit, at least as far as I know. But she did crochet. Blankets. Shoes. Christmas tree ornaments. Christmas stockings. Doorknob decorations. Plastic-egg filled bunnies for Easter. When Grandma was sitting, she was usually crocheting and humming hymns. That's how I remember her.

When I was a child I would often spend a week with Grandma in the summer. One summer she taught me a basic crochet stitch. I think it's called a hook and loop, but I don't really know. I practiced it for about five minutes before I decided I had perfected it and was ready for the next lesson. She showed me how to turn it. I tried, but after a few failed attempts I decided that maybe it wasn't for me and ran outside to play. That was the extent of my needlepoint lessons as a child.

If only I could sit with her now.

I walk into Laila's room and pull out the baby blanket she crocheted for me. The stitching is perfect. I think about all the loops, all the twists, all the pulls that must have gone into that blanket. I am amazed.

I am more amazed when I consider that Grandma made this for me when I was just a child. She knew she wouldn't be around to see me have children, so she made the blanket and gave it to my mom to give to me at my baby shower. She knew she wouldn't be there to hear me say thank-you or to hear everyone admire the beautiful work she had done. But she made it anyway. She made it because she loved me, and I beleive that was her way of expressing her love not only for me but for the children I would someday have.

And then, unexpectedly, the tears come. I wonder if we ever completely get over the loss of loved ones. It pops up so unexpectedly--a dream that's so vivid it makes me cry. When the gardenia bush outside my back door blooms in May. The taste of my mom's vegetable soup, made just like Grandma made hers. When I sit down to read my Bible. When I wash dishes. When I go through the mundane of life. Grandma's life still influences me daily, nearly fourteen years after she passed away.

I offer up a thanks to God for giving me such a wonderful role model. And then, as I so often do, I ask him to tell Grandma how much I love her--that I miss her, and that I think, in some ways, I am becoming a little more like her every day. I don't really think Grandma can hear me. But I know God can. And I know that she is with Him. So maybe He'll deliver the message.

And who knows. Maybe I'll learn to crochet.

My Little Diva

Laila cracks me up. She came with a sense of style that is totally her own, and I have learned to just let her be.

She is incredibly independent, but she is also so sweet and helpful. For example, when she sees me doing laundry, she always comes and asks for her and Connor's clothes so that she can put them away. How sweet is that?! Maybe it's part of her overall obsession with clothes.

As sweet as she is, though, there may be a little diva hiding out in there.  Last week she informed me that she needed a snow coat.

"But Laila, you have a warm pink coat that you could wear in the snow," I replied.
"But it's not a snow coat," she said. "I need a snow coat."
"Well what's the difference?" I asked, wondering how she could possibly know anything about snow coats (or snow, for that matter).
She shrugged her shoulders as if to imply that her mom knows nothing, then responded "It's like a rain coat, but it's a snow coat."

Today she asked for a slice of cake after lunch. What followed was a typical conversation with Laila:
"Mommy, I want a smaller piece," she said.
I cut the cake in half and removed half of it.
"Mommy, this piece doesn't have pink sprinkles. I want some pink sprinkles."
I scraped the icing and pink sprinkles off the piece of cake I had removed and put it on the piece of cake on her plate.
"Mommy,  this cake doesn't go with the sprinkles. Take it away. It doesn't go with the sprinkles."
I removed the cake.
Laila looked at her plate, which now contained only icing and sprinkles. She looked bewildered. After a moment she said, "Mommy, can I have a big piece of cake?"

Let the Memories Begin...

says the sign outside the Magic Kingdom, and I have to admit Disney's Memory-Making marketing plan is very clever. And very effective. I find myself thinking "Connor will only be seven once, and Laila will only be three once--we need to take them back while we can!"

These are a few of my favorite memories from our trip to Animal Kingdom and Magic Kingdom. Connor was six and Laila was two:

*Watching Laila interact with the characters. This may have been her favorite thing--she wanted to meet them all (except, for some reason, the princesses). At first she was a little reluctant and insisted that I carry her. But after the fifth or sixth one, she was a little pro, and would insist on going alone. At the end of each day she would pull out her autograph book and say "Who did I meet?" I would have to flip through the pages and read each name to her.

Laila with her favorite character of all (we met her twice!).

She insisted on meeting the "Bunny Rabbit" even though she had no idea who he was!

*Mad Hatter's Tea Party: I had planned on skipping this, especially after hearing for years how sick it made my parents when they rode it with us! :) But we were waiting for Lee and Connor to finish riding the Tomorrowland Raceway, and Laila kept saying "I want to ride the Teacups without Connor!" So I gave in. When we got on she ran straight to a pink one. At first I held the wheel to prevent her from spinning it, but halfway through I relented. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time! Her little smile was so devious, but she was giggling and having a great time. We rode it again with Connor and Lee.

*Tom Sawyer's Island. With all the thrilling attractions at Disney World, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this slower-paced island. I had my doubts when we were riding the raft over--I found myself thinking "This is a waste of time." But it was exactly what we needed. Shaded. Quieter. A little less crowded. Lee and I sat at a picnic table and ate while the children played on an adjacent playground. Connor explored the mining cave three times. And while stalking a lizard on a path, Connor found a hidden paintbrush. (Disney hides 5-10 of these per day on the island.) His reward: 4 fastpasses to Big Thunder Mountain. I wish we had spent more time on the island--we only saw a small portion of it. I think it was one of the places Connor enjoyed most.

This is where he found the paintbrush while stalking a lizard.

And this is the paintbrush--good for 4 fastpasses to Big Thunder Mountain!

 *Big Thunder Mountain: Connor's first-ever roller-coaster. He got to ride twice--once with me and once with Lee. When we rode it, he was all smiles. He kept laughing and looking at me and saying "This is really fun, Mommy!" When he rode it with Lee, he was an experienced know-it-all--he kept telling Lee what to expect and when it would happen!

Waiting for Big Brother to ride the Roller Coaster!

 *It's a Small World: When we got toward the bottom Laila saw the boats and excitedly said "I want to ride in a boat, Mommy!" We were lucky enough to sit in the first row of our boat. When we turned the corner and entered the room with the singing dolls, Laila's mouth dropped open!

*Peter Pan's Big Adventure:  Our second ride at Magic Kingdom. Connor had his doubts, but when it was over he wanted to ride it again. (We did!)

*Dumbo: Our first ride at Magic Kingdom and Laila's absolute favorite. She loved all of the flying rides--Dumbo, the Magic Carpets of Aladdin, and Tricera Top Spin (Animal Kingdom). And I have to admit, of all the flying rides, I think Dumbo was probably my favorite too.

 *Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin: SO much fun--possibly my absolute favorite attraction.

*Mickey's Philarmagic Show: During the 3-D show, Connor kept reaching out and trying to touch the flying food. Laila kept dodging back and forth as if she thought it was going to hit her!

*Kilimajaro Safaris: We walked right on. Very impressive attraction! I wasn’t sure if Connor was having fun—he sat with his arms draped over the window sill, just looking, not really smiling or anything. But when it ended he said “I wish we could do that again.” So we did.

 *Rafiki’s Planet Watch. So much neat stuff there. Connor spent fifteen minutes petting a Texas Indigo Snake. He loved all the exhibits with all the bugs and frogs and little critters. We could have spent 2-3 hours there. 

 

 *At Animal Kingdom, we found a quiet table behind the Dawa Bar for lunch. Despite the crowds, there was virtually no one there. It was overlooking some water with lots of birds. There was an African beach below. Connor spent twenty minutes staring at it. We had a quiet picnic, which is what we needed.

*The Kid's Club Activities at Animal Kingdom: Connor loved this. I was amazed at how excited he was about it. There were six stations around the park; at each station the children learned something about nature, then got a stamp.  After lunch we ran around the park getting stamps. Once they got all six stamps they got a little activity book. And wow, that book was really handy for some of the lines!

*The tree of life was amazing. We spent a lot of time staring at it and playing “I spy.”

*Mickey's Jingle Jungle Parade: When it started Connor said “Oh man, not a parade!” (It’s really not his thing.) He then proceeded to tell me how he knew that the really tall people were really on stilts—“See their feet, mommy! They’re not feet.”  But despite his protests and moaning, when the Donald float came by, I noticed Connor was smiling and waving. And he was even excited to see Mickey.

 *Electric Parade at Magic Kingdom: Wow! Amazing. When Mickey came by Connor had a HUGE grin on his face and was waving madly at him. After meeting Mickey twice, I think he thought they were old friends!

 *Chester and Hester's Dino-rama: We spent our last hour at Animal Kingdom in this area. It was dark and the lights were on--a lot like a carnival or fair. It was also virtually deserted. We rode the Tricera Top Spin four or five times. There wasn’t a wait, and the attendants would often say “If you want to ride again, just stay on!” The kids also loved the Boneyard Play area nearby. It was deserted too.

 * The castle lighting: Laila and I were on our way to meet the princesses. We turned a corner and saw the castle lit up--not with Christmas lights but with regular lights. It was beautiful! I pulled out my camera to snap some pictures, and my camera froze! I couldn't get it to reset. They announced that Cinderella would be coming out to decorate the castle for Christmas, and since my camera wasn't working anyway, I decided to skip the princesses and stay for the lighting show. It was beautiful! My camera started working again shortly after the lighting show was over. (Was God telling me to slow down--to stop and enjoy what was around me rather than worrying about preserving the memories?) We made our way to the princesses and could have still met them, but Laila didn't want to.

Main Street and Cinderella's Castle with Christmas lights. Beautiful. And yes, crowded.

 *Our favorite thing of all—and I think I speak for everyone—was the Festival of the Lion King. Wow! Amazing!

*And our kids were absolutely AMAZING! I expected a lot of whining and complaining during the car ride. But they didn't! Connor would occasionally ask how much longer, and when we would respond, he would say "Wow! We've gone so far already!" And during the trip back, about half-way through, Connor said "This car ride isn't as much fun as going there." To which I responded "You thought the car ride was FUN?!"  And at the parks both kids were amazing as well. I wasn't sure what to expect--I knew they would be overstimulated, and we weren't sure if we'd need to leave for naps. But they handled it better than we did! Connor didn't complain about all the walking and Laila never became fussy or temperamental. She took an hour nap in her stroller at Magic Kingdom which seemed to completely revive her.

We had a GREAT trip. It was also so much more exhausting than I thought it would be--so much so that I was actually glad to return home.

We got home last night and plugged in the Christmas tree. We watched The Polar Express and ate Chinese food in the living room. Connor assembled his Dinosaur from Legoland. Laila played with her new Minnie Mouse. We read our Christmas devotion. We talked and laughed and continued making memories.

Because, as much fun as Disney World is, life is where real memories are made.

Connor with his Lego dinosaur.

Diaper Days

I feel like I've reached the end of an era.

The past six years, for me, have been marked by diapers. Countless diapers. Disposable diapers. Cloth diapers. Prefolds. All-in-ones. Swim diapers. You name it, and I have probably tried it.

For six years I've budgeted the cost of diapers and wipes into my monthly expenditures. I've perused sale ads for baby items and stocked up on coupons for diapers, wipes, and diaper cream.

For nearly six years now I've nursed babies and toddlers. I'll just say I never planned to nurse a toddler. But when my children were one, they still looked like babies to me. Weaning, for us, was a slow, long, drawn out process.

For six years now I've had interrupted sleep. I've grown used to waking up with little creatures snuggled close to me--so much so that when I  wake without them, I have trouble falling back to sleep.

My identity has become that of mother with baby. That is how I see myself these days. And I am shocked at how quickly it's coming to an end.

Laila will be three in January. Three. I can hardly wrap my mind around that. She's a big girl--she reminds me of that daily. She is independent and fully potty-trained. And although it is a relief to not have to buy diapers, change diapers, wash diapers, and dispose of diapers, it saddens me to see this stage of my life coming to an end.

I think back to when Connor was a newborn. I honestly thought I'd spend six weeks adjusting to him, and then tuck him neatly into my life and start a career as a working mom. I never thought it could be difficult. I never thought there would be days when I just didn't know what to do.

Connor cried. So much. I guess he had colic--whatever that means. I carried him constantly. I really didn't mind, except that when I carried him I couldn't do other things. And when I couldn't do other things, I wasn't being productive. And if I wasn't being productive, well, then I was just being lazy.

At least that's the way I saw it at the time.

I never planned to be a stay-at-home mom. The thought never crossed my mind until Connor was born. It took me nearly fifteen months to finally adjust to him--to finally feel like I was at a place where I could neatly tuck him into my life and begin my legal career.

But my career was short-lived. I felt rushed, pulled in a million directions, and what bothered me the most was how fast everything seemed to be going. Connor was a toddler--my absolute favorite age--and it was going by so fast. I missed him during the day. I had so few hours with him at night. More than anything, I just wanted everything to slow down.

So I resigned. I returned home. We had a second baby. I wish I could say we lived happily-ever-after, but my entire motherhood has been marked by a longing to have a career and a longing to be a stay-at-home mom. And I can't do both. At least not at the same time.

But it goes by so fast. I remember feeling so inexperienced as a young mom. I feel like I've finally got the baby-toddler thing figured out, but my children are outgrowing that stage. And I have to learn all over again.

Don't get me wrong--I am so excited about the future with my children. I look forward to elementary school, extracurricular activities, family vacations, and yes, even high school. I look forward to visiting colleges, planning careers, planning weddings. I look forward to someday having grandchildren and getting to watch the cycle of life all over again.

I just wish, as a young mom, that I had cherished it more. That I had viewed the countless hours I spent holding a baby as a blessing rather than a burden. That I had viewed mothering, in and of itself, as enough. That I had not spent so much time longing for something more.

Two years ago Connor gave me a Mother's Day gift with a verse from Ecclesiastes: "For everything there is a season." I have heard that verse countless times throughout my life, have memorized the passage that it is taken from. But up until that moment, for some reason, I had never applied that verse to my life as mother.

There are so many seasons. So many seasons for the children. And yes, so many seasons for me. Maybe I'll have a legal career someday. Maybe I'll teach. Maybe I'll write a book. Maybe I'll stay home and bake cookies with my grandchildren. I don't know what the future holds for me, but I am convinced that God will carry me through it all, and that whatever He gives me to do will be sufficient to fill my needs. So right now I am content to enjoy the season I am in--the mothering season.

This is pretty much how I feel and look most days!

Me and my girl!

Laila in the baby carrier (she LOVED this thing!)

At the beach with the kids

Laila's first boat ride (aka Grumpy Face)

It's beginning to look a little like Christmas...

Christmas is coming.

I haven't felt my usual level of anticipation for Christmas this year. It could be because I'm obsessed with our upcoming trip to Disney World (just five more days!). Or because it's been unseasonably warm. Or because I'm just not ready to let go of what has been an almost perfect fall.

But like it or not, it is coming.

We started decorating this weekend, and even that has not gotten me in the spirit. I grumbled along, wondering why we do so much. Thankfully Laila was there to lift my spirits.

Laila will be three in January, and she is too young to remember last Christmas. When we started unpacking the Christmas decorations this past weekend everything was exciting for her. She went through the entire box of tree ornaments, marveling at each one she pulled out. (Our tree is not up yet--it will arrive tomorrow.) We put a "princess tree" in her room, and she has not stopped admiring it or talking about it.

Laila and her Princess Tree

She was even more charming when I pulled out the nativity scene. She watched intently as I set out each piece.

"Who's she?" she asked, pointing to the shepard.

"It's a shepard," I replied. "I don't think it's a girl, though."

"What's her name?" Laila asked, unconvinced that I knew what I was talking about.

After I meticulously arranged the pieces, Laila moved Mary next to a wise man. "She's going to cuddle with him," she replied.

Then she moved a sheep next to a goat. "And this lamb will cuddle with him," she said.

She picked up another lamb. "Who will he cuddle with," she asked, deeply concerned.

Laila rearranged the entire scene, finding a friend for each figure.

 Connor returned from his trip to Nina and Papa's last night and decorated his blue Charlie Brown tree.

Connor, Puppy, Eagle, Elfie, and Nala.

We kept adding friends, and made a photo-session out of it!

 This morning the children woke up to a special treat from Santa: their Magic Elves had arrived!

Connor had a Magic Elf last year that he named Elfie. This year Laila got her very own. "Look what Connor brought me!" she said. Laila named her Elf Lola.

Laila and Lola

The elves will visit until Christmas Eve, and Santa will take them home with him when he visits. We had a lot of fun with Elfie last year, and Connor was excited to have his friend return. The cool thing about these elves is that the children can play with them during the day. At night we sprinkle them with Magic Elf Dust, and that is when the real fun begins!

So Christmas is here. I know it will be a lot of fun--it always is. Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Rest Stop

It was an ordinary day. 

Connor and I were driving back from Florence, where we had taken Laila for a weekend with Nina and Papa. Connor was grumpy because Laila was spending the weekend there without him.

“Connor, this is Laila’s weekend with Nina and Papa. Next weekend you will stay with them by yourself. Trust me; you’ll be happy about it next weekend when you’re the one going!”

Connor grumped. 

We were thirty miles from home when Connor announced that he had to use the bathroom.  Fortunately there was a rest area just a few miles ahead. We stopped.

After a quick stop, I was ready to get back in the car and finish the journey. But Connor had other plans. 

“I have an idea about how I can stretch my legs,” Connor said. He tagged me, ran a few steps away, and looked back and grinned.

How can I resist that smile? The same grin of my once-chubby two year old looked up at me with the face and body of a six year old. Where did the time go?

I ran after him. I chased him into a picnic shelter, where he declared that “everything wood is base.”

I waited for him to dart off again, into a large grassy area. 

“I’ve got you now,” I said, running after him.

“Mom, trees are also base. You know they’re wood, right?” he said, running up to a small tree.

I chased him around that grassy area, wondering why I hadn’t worn tennis shoes for the car ride to Florence. Who was I dressing up for anyway?

Connor collapsed into a giant pile of clover. 

“Mom, let’s see if we can find a four-leaf clover!”

We started searching, and immediately I was transported to my own childhood, and the countless hours I spent searching for the elusive lucky clover.

Connor rolled onto his back. “Let’s look for shapes in the clouds!”

I laid down next to him, and he put his head on my stomach.

The sky was clear and blue. It was a brisk 55 degree November day.

“I wish we lived here,” Connor said.

“At the rest stop?”

“Yes, I wish our house was right here. Look at all the clovers!”

Kids think the strangest things, I thought. I watched the world fly by on the interstate. We would join them soon enough.

I thought of our home—the large room upstairs with bins and bins of toys. The swing set and play house outside. The bicycles, tricycles, scooters, and sporting equipment. The friends that live next door. The t.v. and countless kids’ movies. The iPad with special apps for the kids. All that, and Connor was content to lie in a field of clover.

But I know what it really was. Connor was content because he had me. My undivided attention. I was his captive audience. Laila was not there vying for my attention. There was no computer to type on, no stove to cook at, no house to clean. Just me and my boy.

That’s all they really want from us—our time. It seems so simple, and yet days go by when I fail to just stop and be with my kids. It’s not that I don’t want to—I love being with them. But there are so many distractions, and sometimes I just forget.

And I think God is a bit like Connor. He just wants our time—that’s it. Sure, he likes it when we do great things for him, when we do great things for one another—His children. But what He really wants, what He craves, is our time. He longs for us to lie down in a field of clovers with Him and just be. 

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul."

                                         My Sweet Boy and his Puppy!