Ordinary Miracles

We have a SUPERHERO at our house. He keeps us safe. Gets the bad guys.

His getup only LOOKS like my nightie, robe sash, and dad's tie. It's REALLY a high-tech, fireproof, top-secret formula fabric that helps him fly higher and run faster.





















And here's his trusty companion. Here, he's practicing his flying moves. He's getting ready to take off, you see. Oh, and that's not drool dangling from his chin. No, it's supergoo, with which he smears evildoers.

I feel safer, just knowing that they're around.

Yes, it's been a long time since Memorial Day, but since the blog is as much for posterity as anything, I figured I'd go ahead and post this.

I don't know about you, but we needed a week to recover from our Memorial weekend!







On Friday, we went to Falls Park on the Reedy River. It is a mezmerizing place; just being there is exhilirating. The perpetual thrill of the waterfalls, the immaculate gardens and lawns, the energy of the people so vibrantly alive--it's an almost indescribable feeling to be there. I'll hope you'll Google the name; most of the good pictures are copyrighted and I can't post them here.


















We had a picnic with a couple who both work with KiSA; they have two children as well.



















Saturday, KiSA slept in, and then we went to the pool. I took a nap. We relaxed, and relished the fact that we were not looking at houses. There was a Cherokee Powwow that we seriously thought about going to, but we just couldn't seem to get it in gear. I hope that we can catch another one sometime soon; the lands of the Eastern nation are nearby.

Sunday, we went to Brookwood Church again, and enjoyed it again. The sermons are available on Itunes Podcast, it has been a powerful series on the Lord's prayer called, "Is Anybody Listening? How to Talk to God."

After lunch, KiSA said, "Hey, let's go see the mountains." "Oh, yes," I said. "Lets do." Or something like that.

We are about 1 1/2 hours from the Great Smoky Mountains. We got onto the Great Smoky Mountain Parkway and drove for a while. It was gorgeous. But while we grownups were looking at the grand vistas, SK was fascinated by the many tunnels under the mountains.

Eventually, we were high enough that the air was cold. KiSA rolled down the windows and let the cold mountain air tickle the boys' hair and toes a little bit. RnT started squealing, which made SK laugh, and then we all got in on the mirth.

We had some pretty good barbeque in a little North Carolina mountain town. But we got turned around and couldn't find the way home. So we found one of those ubiquitous Chinese-supplied big-box stores and bought a GPS navigator. Two and a half hours worth of hairpin turns later, we were home.

Monday, we got out the door like a herd of turtles (as Nan puts it) and made it to a 2 p.m. memorial service. I think we had high hopes of SK grasping what the day was all about. Alas, he was more interested in the pile of dirt which we were standing near. To his credit, it was hot and it was nap time. But he heard the national anthem and Pledge of Allegiance before we had to go find some water and conditioned air. That was important to us, that he get at least an idea that there was something poignant and powerful going on. It was at least one more opportunity to teach him how to take off his hat when the color guard passes by. There was a special honoring of the WWII veterans, and we made sure he got to meet one of them. They really were heroes, we told him. They really did fight bad guys and keep us all safe. And we made sure he knew that Papaw was a hero just like them!

Then we went to the Freedom Weekend Aloft, which was a hot-air baloon festival and all-out carnival. We didn't see the hot air balloons--SK tired out before they lifted off--but we still had a lot of fun.

He rode a train















ate popcorn,
















rode a ferris wheel for the first time, and had a picnic in the park.

RnT felt the grass on his feet, threw his first fit when i took something away from him, and cooed at everyone who walked by. By Tuesday, we definitely needed a rest!

It rarely happens in the real estate world: a seller accepts a buyer's first offer. But, praise the Lord, it happened to us on Monday. That's right, we have a contract on a house here. We're set to close at the end of June.

I am excited, but I'm also a little sad. This means that we're not at camp or on a working vacation. We live here now.



















I miss waving at the greatest neighbors in the world out my sunny kitchen window in our little yellow cottage.













I guess it just occurred to me--I will never live there again.

That house, that neighborhood, will always be sweet to me. It's the first place I heard the thump-thump of SK's first footfalls.
































It was there that our love was renewed, and grew into another son.




















It's where I labored with our little RnT, and where I brought him home. I walked my two blondes--Jackson and SK (in a stroller!)--countless miles over the years.














I finally began to walk in some Truth and Freedom there, thanks be to God.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord brought us here. I have no regrets about moving here. What I do regret, though, is that I let the mundane flotsam of life keep me from having friends over more often. That I worried too much about what other people would think of me to allow myself to love them well.

So, in honor of the brevity of life, the miracle of crossing paths only one Divinely designated time, I've been seizing the moments. We've already had friends over, boxes and all. And I'm not letting anyone even pass me on the sidewalk without being open to making a new friend, a new disciple. I guess it's akin to telling God, "Bring all offers."

We've been fiddling around with this toilet-training thing since SK was about 19 months old. About 80 percent of the problem has been me; it's more mommy-training at this point. I read that the coolness of the undies themselves is an incentive to take care of business big-boy style, so here's what we picked up the other day:
















Another skill we are learning is to control our hands and our tempers. Part of this is saying you're sorry when you've offended or hurt someone. Our most effective discipline tool right now is removing toys. It's highly unpopular, but effective. So SK comes to me and lets me know that I need to say I'm sorry for taking away his toy. His feelings have been hurt. "I'm frustrated, and you're not listening to me," he asserts.

I explained to him that if I were mean to my neighbor and hit them, then I would have to go to jail and would not have any of my own things. And if I was not careful with my car and I crashed into someone else, that I would be in trouble. And that I would have to pay money for breaking the rules. So he needs to learn to not hit, or his things will be taken away too. The first thing he asked KiSA when he got home that night was if he had hit his neighbor! He wanted to make sure that his Daddy wasn't going to have to go away. Of course, we reassured him that both of us were going to stay with him forever.
















I love the encouragement he gives. "You're doing a great job!" he exclaims. "Yeah, mommy, you did it!" he shouts. He did this for the packers and movers; going around the house praising them for doing such a great job. I don't think there's a person on this earth that doesn't like a little bit of a pat on the back, even (especially?) if it comes from a child.

And then there's the fun of masking tape. Why he felt compelled to wrap it around his head, I don't know. Because it was there, maybe? Anyway, once he wanted to take it off, he realized that tape in the hair can smart. "I don't think I'd put tape on myself again if I were you," I said. "Yeah," he agreed, his eyes full of tears. Wow, I thought, he learned his lesson.

So he went back into the living room and taped his wrists. Sigh.

And that, folks, is why there is masking tape on top of my refrigerator, alongside the flashlight, the hammer, the toy airplane, and a nerf football. It probably doesn't take a lot of imagination to guess why they're up there as well.

Did I mention that I am crazy about this kid? There's not enough frustration to keep me from delighting in him, and savoring every iota of this experience. Even the part where he is PUSHING my BUTTONS. We are trying to remember that he will be driving off to college before we know it.

RnT turned five months old on the 14th. We are soaking in his marvelous cuteness every scrumptious moment he's awake, and sometimes, asleep as well.

He is trying to give kisses, mouthing on our cheeks when we pick him up. He's very proud of himself for this.

He is rolling over as easily and often as he pleases. He is trying to get his knees under him, and KiSA said he saw him on knees and elbows, rocking back and forth.


He is visibly delighted by his big brother. Even when he gets bopped or startled by him, he still thinks it's funny.

He's getting excited when Daddy comes home. He's started to fuss when I walk away.

It's fun to be able to hold a toy in front of him and watch him grab it. It's fun to tickle him and make him laugh. It's more precious than I can describe to feed him, hold him, rock him to sleep...

Today, my parents received the results of my dad's PET scan. It showed no active lymphoma!
Praise God!

On Saturday, we explored the closest state park, Paris Mountain State Park. It was gorgeous!

Not all the paths were like this, of course. But some of the structures were built before the turn of the last century, and the park officially opened as such in the 1930s.









I can't say we hiked, because when you hit the trail with a little boy, it's full-speed-ahead with intermittent hard braking. None of this steady paced, "oh, look at the lovely mountain laurel" nonsense. We saw geese with their goslings, turtles on a log, big fat honeybees and ants.


We found the sticks and dirt required to make any outing complete.
In addition, there was a playground with a soccer-field sized lawn.











Oh, and pine cones. How could I forget the pine cones?

I'm unsure why I feel compelled to share this with you all, but I went to Wal-Mart with my shirt on inside out. I clued in to this fact when RnT spit up all over me.

I briefly considered going to the rest room to turn the shirt right side out, but then decided it was too much trouble for something that didn't much bother me.

It's okay to laugh. I did.