two years later

Today was a very ordinary, overcast Monday in our part of this big world. It even could have been chalked up as a bad day, a failure, had it not been for a singular little fact that kept reeling me back in and reminding me that all this is a gift for which I really am thankful.

Gratitude can change perspective like that.

And that singular little fact is this: today is September 9th, our two year anniversary of bringing our sons home from Ethiopia. The gift that Bereket and Tamagn are for us is fresh before me.

We didn't get much done in the way of school, but we had crepes with homemade blueberry sauce for lunch. The dishes sat in the sink until it was time to start dinner but I thoroughly enjoyed reading a bit of The Two Towers aloud to my biggest boy, snuggled down in my bed, during nap time. We walked our milk bottles down the street and took the long way back and spent half an hour just chatting with two neighbors. We picked green beans and used them as manipulatives for a phonics lesson. I did another load of wet sheets and pillows, again, and resolved to buy Pampers tomorrow.

Daddy getting a runover from B and J before he goes to work.

B is working today too.

Fun with beans.

Brothers.

We had leftover Ethiopian food for dinner and then piled onto the sofa in the basement to watch home movies of this day two years prior. I wish I'd had a video camera rolling to catch the boys' comments as they were watching themselves on the television!

Josiah wishes "we were back in those times."

Tamagn was very impressed with Bereket's dance moves and declared more than once, "When I get smaller, I can dance like that!"

And Bereket laughed so hard at the footage of his very strange snoring {that musical kind of snoring that convinced us to have his adenoids out} that he was gasping for breath.

It was a good day. I am thankful for where we are today, for these little lives that God has given us to care for, to call our children. It is cheap therapy to look back and remember what God has done.  It always leads my heart to worship the good God who has an infallible plan and who has invited me to be a part of His story. He is worthy of our praise.

two minutes in time

Three boys create a lot of noise. Mostly, I am just fine with this. I remember the quiet of one child and am thankful for the loud, hilarious, enthusiasm of boys enjoying their brothers. But sometimes I can't do what needs to be done for the tumbling and yelling and rolling going on all over. All the time. This series of pictures came out of one of those times.

I was trying hard to pack up, clean up and move out of the second-story apartment we lived in for three days during our time in Michigan and was getting distracted by the ever-increasing noise my boys were making, and a bit embarrassed wondering what we must sound like to the people below us in the store where the owners worked. Wild monkeys that can stomp like elephants and screech like the Nazgul in Lord of the Rings?

The beautiful old church pew along the brick wall seemed like a good solution. Sit and be quiet, really quiet, for two minutes. They sat. And they were quiet. And they were really cute. And I didn't get done what needed to be done in those two minutes.

Rather, I shot about 40ish pictures of them sitting there, quiet, but still very much enjoying each other.

And I love what came out of those two minutes. They are two minutes I won't ever have again. Time flits itself away faster and faster each day it seems and I don't want to live too much of my life regretting how I spent two minutes here and two minutes there. Just a reminder today to slow down and enjoy.

(And I still did get out the door eventually, with all our stuff, and three little boys too.)

observations from a peach orchard

We are just back from our last {planned} trip of the year. Four days near the shores of Lake Michigan made for a restful, mini-vacation at the close of another summer. Casey had one last class before his final exam in November so while he studied diligently, the boys and I explored and enjoyed very much the sunshine and water. And peaches.

Michigan fruit country during the height of peach season is a delightful place to be. We spent a lovely morning at an orchard where I thoroughly enjoyed watching how differently my three sons responded to the opportunity before them.

Josiah approached it as a challenge to fill his bucket {which happens quicker than you'd like with peaches}. He wanted perfect fruit specimens and delighted in showing me each peach he diligently sought out and chose.

Bereket dwaddled from this tree to that tree, nibbling just a bit of a peach, more concerned with the rash that he might get, no, that he knew he had. Unfortunately, he had heard the lady who checked us in warn me that the peach fuzz can irritate skin and he became rather obsessed with concern over touching the fruit. Or the heat of the day. Or something.

And Tamagn. Tamagn chose his peach, flipped his bucket over to serve him as a seat, sat his little self down in the sun and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy the moment. Between bites of golden goodness with sweet juicy running down his chin and arms, he sang away, "I will cast all my cares upon you, I lay all of my burdens down at your feet..."

They are so very different. I need days in an orchard to appreciate the differences. To see the person behind the complaining or the mess or the song. They are little people, precious little people and I want them to know that I am so glad that I get to be their mom. I want them to know that they are enjoyed.