The Good Life

Grandad came for breakfast! The whole world tilts his direction, his celebrity status firmly attached to Grammie. She spoiled us all to the tips of our toes yesterday. {Sigh} Sure nice being a daughter.

Now, quarter past nine, Jane is curled up in a blanket nest. Upset tummy.

Jack is in the kitchen preparing banana slices. He dumps all in a froggie bowl, scurries for Jane's nest. All she needs is a little bell.

Lulu has explored the bananas, ate most of one trashed it, and stuffed one down the hose of the shop vac. Her face is rather dusty.

I'm eating a blueberry poptart.

Life is good.

Clippings

Just wanted to say, thank-you to Momma and Mommy-in-law for making this possible. Look at what sweet grassy feet we've gone on and made. Trouncing through the fresh possibilities of our children I pray we grow them so well. Treasure beyond words. Thanks.

A Prayer

I lift my eyes to the hills.
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.

~Psalm 121:1-2

I turn my face to God.

::

"One more hug, Momma," little hands pull my neck down next to his cheek. He smells like honey and dirt, sweat and fresh cut grass. A little man. Mercy from heaven.

::

My momma has a bulldog. All sweetness and snort, she brambles around a house that used to hold children. She's the baby. She is sick. Still sick after a looong time.

Children most frequently pray for grandparents and pets. So if you'd like to pretend you're a child for a moment, say a little prayer for Punkin the bulldog.