"Oh no, Lucy forgot to make bread," I groan. "Did Lucy make bread, Jane?"
"Oh, no," Jane groans. She wipes the table in soothing circles captures crumbs in the folds of a rag. "I don't think she did," she says.
"Rrrrats!" I say.
"'Scuse me, 'scuse me," Betsy shoves emphatic against my leg. "Bed, bed, bed," she says. She lopes around a kitchen counter, and like Lassie, looks back for me to follow.
"Ok," I say.
There in the sunroom, she points. The bread maker open, a loaf. No one took it out. The warming feature just hot enough, I head back to the kitchen for heat mitts, Betsy, already there, drawer open, more emphatic pointing at the heat mitts.
Finally, loaf turned out on a cooling rack, I reach for the bread knife. Knife drawer just taller than Betsy's head, she can barely reach the handle but can't reach in, The drawer's open and waiting, her grinning.
"It's SCARY how much she knows," Jane says.
"I know," I say.
"It seems like just a second ago she was a tiny baby, and now she has a MIND of her own," Jane says.
"Yes," I say, "exactly."
So it is, Betsy has a mind of her own and Jane a gentle grin of appreciation. We smile, the electricity of growing up there between us.
6205. Snow. Buckets of snow pour down over our city. We sled and then cozy up next to the warm fire.
6206. George sleeps a long stretch most nights now and settles into an eat-play-sleep routine. I can feel him gaining weigh. He nestles like a huge lump on my chest and drifts to sleep.
6207. He starts to smile, first a grin at Craig, then big grins at me, the kind that raise his eyebrows and wrinkle his scalp.
6208. Craig and the kids organize the hand-me-down storage.
6209. We wrap up all the meaningful Christmas celebrations. They tuck into the folds of memories like feathers under wings.
6210. Jack makes pancakes and whip cream, cinnamon rolls and frosting, and deep dish pizza all from scratch to celebrate the new year.
6211. We settle back to enjoy the gentle assent of another year. One day stacked on another, we collect a few disciplines to practice every day. Mostly we settle back to watch the Lord work. We pray worship defines the minutia of each day. To God be the glory.