Sunday, September 5, 2010
"That's not jade green," he says. I poke a green colored pencil into the color can. It splays out with the others.
"Yeah, it is," I say and tip the can to see better.
He shakes his head. "That's NOT the jade green." I paw through pointed ends, frown. Plain green, where's the plain green?
Janie eyes that boy, "Actually Jack," she says, "it is. Whatever Mom says is TRUE." She raises her eyebrows, pauses, pencil poised, then scratches more memory to paper.
I run my fingers through long pencil colors. They clank in the can. True. Whatever Mom says is TRUE. I swing yellow-green into hand and cradle the idea: Everything I say is true.
163. The unmade bed that forced me to relax all day.
164. The way Lucy says, "Meditates," when we practice Psalm1.
165. Peach pie made with extra lemon.
166. An invite to Thanksgiving and family and the ocean.
167. 29 cans of dilly beans.
168. Children who ate fist fulls of raw beans when I didn't serve lunch until 2:00.
169. Cousins who picked five gallons with us just before the afternoon burst into rain.
170. Fresh dill.
171. Huge basil leaves.
172. Husband who pulled the potato plants and the children who scooped dirt and taters out of the garden.
173. Homemade hot dog buns.
174. Pepper jelly.
175. Sliced tomatoes still on the table after school work until Janie notices and eats them all.
176. How Jack wrinkles up his forehead when we learn how rain is made.
177. Books and books and books. Books everywhere in this house.
178. My laundry room wiped and scrubbed and rearranged tidy.
179. Glory to God. Even my worst will be turned into good.
180. The window of influence Craig and I have with our children. Complete devoted influence.
181. The closing of that window day by day until they are their own.
182. And that even then, we can still pray.