"Jack use your sense of color," Jane demands.
The floor, a scatter of puzzle pieces, Jack reaches for one with half a leopard half a rhino. "I got a sense of color," he says, "I do, I do." He jabs at a partially assembled jungle.
"He's putting a leopard print on a bird," Jane flabbergasts.
He sighs, turns the piece, pops it in place. "See, I got a sense of color back in," he says.
47 pieces of jungle tumble on to the living room rug. They work the pieces one by one. Their hands flip them, rotate them, line them straight and scoop them back to box and cabinet. Between the segments they weave their world.
Lulie hums. An out-loud, drum of a hum, I suddenly realize it has words.
"The name of the Lord of me," she says, "the name of the Lord of me's YES SIR." She rotates the red feathers of a toucan. "The name of the Lord of me," she lilts. And "YES SIR." She blinks grown up and tilts her head, captures another piece.
The puzzle materializes again, that same 48th piece missing still. They don't mind.
And more, small puzzles occur all 'round the house. Little squarish and rectangular notes, they appear, markers of conversation pieced together.
Gratitude:
744. A gun lesson from Daddy.
745. Their jaw-dropped, dumbfounded, "Wow! It shoots through WALLS!" when Daddy crafts a faux wall and shoots it.
746. A healthy fear and respect of guns coupled with their daddy's confidence.
747. Husband with his dad.
748. Jack's comment, "I saw a camel with a really little hump," and how we howl and laugh and call all the horses camels-with-really-little-humps.
749. Laundry soap that smells like honey and spring.
750. How husband volunteer-creates a newsletter for Spring of Hope in his off hours.
751. Avocado sliced on tortilla chips.
752. An afternoon with freckled cousin and how the children all make compasses and follow them who knows where naming every direction.
753. How husband caricatures me after a selfish day and we laugh nearly to tears.
754. Diligent attention to attitude and tone of voice as much as behavior.
755. Dutch butter cookies.
756. A bunch of good diaper deals this week.
757. How Jack jumps extra far off the monkey bars to impress me when I volunteer in his class at church.
758. Soup and red licorice at mom's.
759. Lulie's comment, eyebrows all serious, "If you pray and ask God, he will come into your tummy."
760. Another week fuller than the last of all the important things.
A sweet list to remember.
ReplyDeleteYou always inspire me to keep enjoying my kids. . . my LIFE. . . to the fullest. Never lose that.
ReplyDeleteI love your list and post. It is so fun to listen and watch the kids as they play. The detergent that smells like honey and spring sounds wonderful. Do you make your own or buy it some where? I remember as a child the time spent with cousins was precious and fun.
ReplyDelete#754 Me too.
ReplyDeleteJesus comes into your tummy. LOL
A sense of color--now there's a girl after my own heart.
Craig. So much to admire in that man.
Thanks for stopping by! I'm looking forward to reading more on your blog.
ReplyDeleteI looked up that detergent - never heard of it before. I do make my own dry detergent and you can find the recipe here:
http://cooking-with-aspiring-mom2three.blogspot.com/search/label/laundry
I make enough to last me for four months (a gallon). Some people like to make it up as a liquid, but I just don't have storage for that.
Liv and Lucy have been singing the same melody lately! Any chance her version has "shoot with the parachute" in it? :) Enjoyed your post as always--thanks for being His scent of honey and springtime in our lives!
ReplyDeleteYES! It dawned on me later that, that must be the song she was singing. Hee-hee.
ReplyDeleteAnd Mom2three, it was a sample of Crunchy Clean. MmmMMm! It's the baby bee one. Wish I had a whole bucket of it. :)
Love the photo with Craig and his dad, Lulu's comment about God coming into your tummy, and avocado on tortilla chips. Yum!
ReplyDeletenot sure which I liked better, husband imitating you or the Dutch butter cookies!!! Being Dutch, my mouth started watering for my grandmother's cookies in the big, black cookie tin. I think the cookies win today. Such a great list! Glad I got here --- a little late, but I'm here, and it was worth it!
ReplyDeleteso i've finally found a flaw of yours, miss bethany. and i'm all smug about it. :)
ReplyDeleteyou see, some day, your kids are going to get to that last year of grade school, and the yearbook is going to ask them for a "cute childhood photo" to publish.
and then, my friend, you're going to have a conundrum on your hands -- pulling from a pile so big. :)
how are they really this beautiful every. single. time...?
great post!
I love these glimpses into your life, and how they make me grateful for my own 1,000 gifts.
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting the photos of your daughter in her eyepatch. It made me smile and immediately transported me back to the 5 years that my daughter wore one. It was often a battle but so worth insisting on it. She thanked me for it as a young adult.
ReplyDelete