May 14, 2012 Anna wants her brother's attention. Says, "James-James" two times in a row with urgency. I love to hear this. The other day, James took a toy and hit Anna's head. He was seated on the couch and her head was laid against the end of the sofa. Upon his hitting her, I took his hand in mind, laid a finger on it, and gave a firm, "No-No. No hit." He then looked at me, scooted himself off of the couch, then gave his sister a hug. I was so touched to see that at only 20 months, his young mind already was able to register that when we hurt someone, we say that we're sorry. And the beauty of seeing him communicate this without words. Only with a hug. The days of recovering from hernia repair surgery are dragging, dragging. By the time I can finally pick up James again, I wonder if he'll still even be interested in being picked up. I pray that he will. I miss the feel of him, of his weight against my hip as I stand with him in my arms.

Mother's Day 2012

May 13, 2012 Mother's Day On this day I woke to the sounds of my children bouncing and giggling on my bed where I slept in. Anna who is five, and James who is inching up on 20 months, shrieked with excitement at getting the chance to get in bed with Mommy and build forts under the covers and toss pillows around. I can't think of a much sweeter wake-up call. The day was beautiful. We all slept in, unfortunately causing us to miss Sunday school, and then we talked ourselves into missing church, too, so that we could make a drive to the nearby state park, Little Olcmulgee. They have a really amazing restaurant that serves a tasty buffet filled with seasoned meats and vegetable casseroles, and a sea of desserts that makes it almost mandatory that a hike on the trails must follow the meal so that the sugar can be burned off. Down came the rain, so we didn't stay for the usual hike, but instead took a pair of full, tired kids home who were "played out" after their visit with the park's kids' area gift shop where they hugged every stuffed animal imaginable and fingered nature-themed toys in their busy, little hands. Coming home was a magical gift for me, too - I had two and a half hours of uninterrupted painting time. I worked on painting over an acrylic class assignment with oil paint and made dramatic improvements to the piece. It's hanging in what is now our artist's studio, as of today (setting it all up for me was another mother's day gift: my request), and I'm so pleased with the transformation that it made from class-project-boring acrylic, to the now more sophisticated purple-fusia, oil based finished piece. A flower pot and some roses peeping out. A simple piece, but the colors came out well. And after painting - we all went to the nearby softball field and enjoyed the fenced-in convenience. Even the dogs came and dribbled a ball across the vast, open space. I walked for exercise and had the chance to watch my angels at play. James, toddling across the red mud where the plates were left behind, stomping his small feet in the mud puddles left over from the earlier-rain. His fists raised and full , clasping the dense, red mud in his tight little hands. And Anna, like a painting herself, scurrying to and fro with her brother in tow, dancing barefoot in the mud puddles, whispering to herself a story that only she could understand. And my husband: tall, broad-shouldered, focusing on the ladybug kite he had brought out for the kids to fly, finding that he enjoyed watching it snake in and out of the breeze even more than the kids did. This was heaven under a dark-clouded sky on mother's day. I go to bed tonight feeling incredibly blessed, much more so than I deserve to be. Thank you, Lord, for my family, and for the blessing of motherhood.