Carrots

"Want me to wash TWO carrots," Jack lopes into the kitchen, "in case you want one on our date?" Smudgy fingers, he holds up two tail ends of carrots, soil smirched on knees and elbows, smutched across his forehead. Carrot harvest.

"Sure."

He scrubs the little nubs with an old vegetable brush. He swipes them dry, holds them up. "Look, it looks like a cross." He palms them, shoves the orange jewels down to the bottom of his pocket. Then we leave, and the pocket swallows his whole hand while he digs them out.

"Here ya, go Mom." He rubs a piece of lint off the tangerine root.

I crunch the coral sugar root, candy down my throat. "Mmm. I can't believe how good these are. Thanks, Jack."

We sail off. "What I did," he says, "is I sneaked some coupons for ice cream in my wallet in case we might want some."

I smile. We gaze out our respective windows, me the windshield, he the backseat window. "Oh. Thanks." Matter-of-fact, we let he moment unroll as if these things didn't need a lot of fuss.

"Mommy, how much are the drinks at Starbucks?"

"A lot." I prop my arms over the steering wheel, marvel at the quiet between each sentence, at the simple cadence of conversation.

"How much?" I can feel the arch of his eyebrows behind me.

"Some of them four dollars," I say.

"Oh," he nods, "I've got seven dollars. And forty cents. And a couple of pennies."

We let that rest as if the matter were settled. Seven dollars. Forty cents. A couple of pennies. Enough.

And so it is, the boy heart rises to be like his father and provide.

Gratitude:

3672. "Lets have a drawing contest and see who can draw the best bee's nest," Jack tolls.

3673. "You peed in them? Again? Your pants? Go. get. them. I want to see the pee." I frown and watch Myra trot down the hall. "When you say that," Jane shakes her head, "what scares me is that she runs to her room, not the washer."

3674. "Mom, I need to show you something in here that I think is poopy," Lucy calls from the bedroom.

3675. "I like Joe's toes," Myra says and squeezes a baby toe.

3676. "How 'bout every Saturday is Organization Day," Jane offers.

3677. Myra wipes her face with the kitchen rag. "Ma," she says, "I'm, getting the boogers out a my eye."

3678. We eat heirloom tomato salad, fresh mozzarella, and blackberry pie at Mom's. We sip coffee and pray for her trip to Kenya, the crusade, the people.

3679. Almond chocolate bark.

3680. Our children learn the first question you ask when you meet a new kid: Is you mom home so my mom can meet her?

3681. We continue to study Revelation: the title deed of the earth, the scroll, the Lamb as He had been slain, Ruth, Boaz, the kinsman redeemer. "This is sort of weird," Janie says, "how it all fits together piece to piece to piece."

3682. "I don't really like clothes," Lucy confesses. "I just like going naked."

3683. Jane interrupts homework. "Mommy, would you turn Pandora on 'cause Jack's singing is -- annoying. Unfortunately his singing is not as good as the people on Pandora."

3684. "I got faster at math," she says. "Yesterday I could only do one of these problems in one breath. Now I can do one and a half."

3685. "This one's my dagger," Myra says and stabs the air with a teal blue 19 gauge knitting needle.

3686. "Joey kind a poops like animals," Jack nods, "'cause he poops wherever he is." He pokes Joe's baby belly. "But when he's older he won't."

3687. "Our family does not want crumbs on the floor," I punctuate with a frown. Lucy widens her eyes. "But the Devil does?" she says. "My clean up my mess," Myra adds.

3688. A neighbor brings over hand-me-down shoes for Myra.

3689. Pizza pie, a rainbow of salads, peach pie, laughter to make your cheeks ache.

3690. Finally, we completely organize all the kids' drawers. "Thank-you that we have enough clothes that we could even make a mess," Jane prays. "I know that in some countries that would not be possible."

3691. The kids reflect on Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. "I think you shouldn't dress up like a boy," Jane says. "You shouldn't fight if you don't know what end of a sword you are using," Lucy adds. "I think you shouldn't steal stuff unless you ask," Jack says.

3692. "I was gonna sword fight with knotting needles with Jack," Jane confesses, "and thought, I probably should be working."

3693. We have our Thursday Writer's Workshop. "The word combination that you want to be a sentence isn't a sentence because it doesn't have a verb," Jane says.

3694. We circle up for the vice-presidential debate.

3695. "I understood very little," Jane comments on the debate, "but I could tell just by the way he was talking, he is very confident."

3696. "Mom, "Lucy croons, "can I pick Joe up into my arms and hold him up and when I feel like I'm gonna drop him, put him back on the ground?"

3697. "I love you bigger than the sky," I tell Myra. "I love you bigger than a mouse," she replies, "really big one mouse."

3698. Jack explains the fall of man, "Like this is half of the lie: Your eyes will be opened and you will be like God. Your eyes will be opened but not like God."

3699. "You already spilled two times" I tell Myra. "One, two. Two times." Her face lights up, "Hold my horses, mom?"

3700. Lucy slaps our hefty dinner table. "If everybody helped," she says, "we probably could tip this table over."

3701. "Hey Jack," I overhear in the kitchen, "can you help me with the milk? Thanks. That was a test. You got an A+ on it."

3702. Burgers and Canasta with Pete and Rosie.

3703. "Hey Momma, wanna get up? I made you eggs," Jane greets me this morning.

3704. "Sorry. Forgive me pinch you?" Myra says to Lucy.

3705. I finish grades for progress reports.

3706. My mother safely lands in Nairobi, Kenya with the Spring of Hope team. Now en route to Adiedo, I pray of the coming seminar and crusade.

3707. I reflect on God's provision through my husband and swell with gratitude for his hard work.

3708. I ruminate on the obvious: There is enough time in each day for the things Jesus wants me to do. I just have to determine what those are.