My Learning Curve: No Farmers Market for my Sensory Boy
They May be Dandelions…
Looming Deadlines
Helloooooo
Mimi Breaks the Block
“There’s Nothing to Eat”
Stop. Take Three Deep Breaths.
At the Mile High Airport
Topsy Turvy Monday
Today is one of the most important days for students graduating from medical school; it’s Match Day. This morning, all around the country, each applicant opened an envelope with the name of the program that would become their home for their years of residency; in Sweet Pea’s case, that is five years.
The halfway point of spring break has passed and we are holding it together. God is meeting our needs through friends – both other kids who come to play, and grownup friends who offer to help. Yesterday we had two friends here who added energy and fun to the day. The girls did one another’s make up, danced, sang, and baked banana bread, which was quite tasty.
kitchen help doesn't get much more enthusiastic than this
I’ve been thinking about prayer lately and I am not satisfied with my prayer life. Sure, I pray all day long as I have needs (which seem constant) or people come to mind. But that kind of prayer is not sufficient for a mature faith. I’ve known that for a long time, and I remember a time when I had a prayer life that was sweet and consistent. I have made multiple starts at a better prayer life, and not been very successful. Yesterday I listened to an old sermon by John Piper focused on how to pray and I was inspired by something he said – actually lots of things he said – but this one grabbed me.
It’s 2:00 in the afternoon and the house is quiet because even during Spring Break, perhaps more than ever during Spring Break, we are having Quiet Hour. Don’t confuse Quiet Hour with nap time because “naps are for babies.” Quiet Hour gives everyone a chance to decompress with a little solitude.
How often do we tell a friend that we will pray for them and then it slips our minds? Do you, like me, find yourself, in the midst of a task, when a friend comes to mind and you feel terrible that you haven’t remembered to pray for her during a time of suffering?
We’ve hit upon something that is helping us remember to pray for the ones we love.
I don’t often post about birthdays because, the truth is, we have a lot of them and while I’m good at celebrating, I don’t always manage to write about the day. Today is a little different because it is Sweet Pea’s birthday and we aren’t celebrating because she is in Gambia working at a rural hospital.
We haven’t been able to communicate very much with her because they rarely have electricity that allows her to use the computer, but we’ve gotten a few emails. Rather than tell you about her time there, I thought I would let her share it herself by cutting bits out of her emails.
Today was the Reproductive and Child Health clinic day at the hospital. I weighed and charted 182 babies and small kids. They were cute, hilarious, and woebegone by turns. When one would occasionally cry and fuss and flail about getting on the scale, the Gambian nurse would yell “Hey, hey” loudly followed by something in Mandinka or Wolof or Jolla. She kept saying to me, “You have to be stern – these are African children.” I told her American kids have just as much trouble. It might have been separation anxiety, or it might have been the “toubob” (white person) manning the scale that scared them – I’m still not sure! …
time for math
Russ was singing to the boys last night as he tucked them in bed; he went through a number of old favorites and wrapped it up with “Jesus loves the Little Children.” When he got to the line, “…red and yellow, black and white…” Little Man interjected, “Dad! There are white people?” Russ answered, “Well yes – I’m white.” Little Man shook his head, and with a wise smile said, “No, you’re not, you’re brown.”
What is “normal” hair? This is a must-watch by the talented spoken word artist, Micah Bournes. It will appeal to just about anybody who reads my blog, but if you are a white parent of black children, you really must see it.
If you aren’t familiar with spoken word, this is how Wikipedia defines it, “Spoken word is a form of poetry that often uses alliterated prose or verse and occasionally uses metered verse to express social commentary. Traditionally it is in the first person, is from the poet’s point of view and is themed in current events.”
Isaiah shared this with me, so you can thank him – it’s good stuff.
Lisa
I read an article this week about a man who was dying of cancer. He talked about people being afraid of saying the wrong thing, or not coming to see him for fear of awkwardness. He spoke of old friends who stayed away because they felt it had been too long and reconnecting in his last months would be strange. Then he said something that really struck me,
Yesterday was Forever Day, but we didn’t celebrate, in fact we aren’t celebrating until tomorrow during Sunday dinner. You might wonder why I, a person who loves traditions and holidays, let this slip by. I’ll give you three good reasons.
1.Forever Day was very difficult last year. I wrote the post New Every Morning as I processed it.
