Ripsticks, Water Balloons, and Popsicles.

Sunday. The breeze blew against our hot sticky faces as we walked barefoot back from the field.  It was late afternoon when our Frisbee game ended.  We ran until our legs were sore, cheered until our voices were horse, and played until the sun sank down behind the buildings.  Exhausted and tired, we trudged back to the house reminiscing of the days when we were ten.  

It was one of those after-church gatherings.  The kind where we raced home from church to change out of our Sunday clothes, grab the food, and jump back in the car to continue Sunday fellowship.  The mummer of sweet conversation surrounded the living room where the mothers' neatly relaxed.  Some of the dads were intently competing in a game of Corn Toss while the rest of them were found talking, out on the deck, next to the grill.  Almost every room of the house was occupied by children--playing board games, Foosball, Ping Pong--and giggling.  It had been a fun day.  The humidity was high, but that wasn't about to stop us from having fun.  The day was filled; water balloon launching, wet clothes, Knock-Out, Ripsticks, me learning how to dunk a basketball and getting laughed at, third place water balloon toss champs, Jeep rides, watermelon seeds, hamburgers, Joseph lying down in the end zone due to a stomach ache from twelve pieces of watermelon, candy canes, and lots of laughing.  

My friend and I stood on the driveway as the sky grew dark. We stood close to each other but remained silent. It was one of those moments where we didn't mind not talking; we stood there together soaking it all in. We watched the little girls sitting on the steps giggling and eating their Popsicles.  We watched the boys balance on the Ripsticks and laughed as they kept falling and trying again.  I was so thankful for a beautiful day.  

After a few minutes, we broke the silence.  We shared the feelings we felt and the happiness we had that day.  We began to share our hearts; our thoughts, dreams, struggles, and worries.  We confided in each other and shared God's love for us.  Talking over our plans for life, we both realized we were at the same spot; having the same thoughts and doubts.  As I talked with her, I felt encouraged. It can be hard in life, not knowing the next step, or where God wants you.  All we can do is pray and wait for His timing.  We wrapped our arms around each other and quietly walked to the side of the house.  The damp grass was cold against our bare feet as we sat down.  Holding hands, we dedicated our worries to the Lord. We prayed for God's plan, and for patience in waiting.  We prayed for His blessing, and His provision. We prayed for His love to radiate through us to others. The mosquitoes were biting, but I was determined not to flinch.  Moments like these are far too important to be distracted.  

God has plans for us; He knows our hearts.  I am thankful for the conversations I can have with my friends, and the heart-to-heart discussions we share. This is only one of the many I have been blessed with.  I am thankful for the happiness He places inside my heart.  He is my joy and strength every day. I love watching where He places me, and who He brings to talk to me. He has me where He wants me, and I am content with that.  (: 

My Mother.

     Sitting at the dinner table, I held the letter in my hand.  I can remember feeling disappointment run through my soul as I re-read every word of rejection. It wasn't anything big I applied for; it was just a little something I had set my heart on doing. I felt God was calling me to spend a week serving.  But after being gently declined, I felt like the door closed abruptly. I sighed. Hiding my discontented feelings from my family, I whipped the frown off my face and stuffed the letter back in the envelope. I didn't want to see it again. More than anything I wanted it to be out of my sight. I shoved it under a bunch of papers on the counter knowing that would solve my problem. It would get moved a few times and eventually end up in the trash.  I felt ashamed and quickly changed the subject; not wanting anyone to know how disappointed I really was.  


    Not much was said after dinner that night, everyone seemed to let it slide past their minds.  My mind raced around in circles as I lay in bed that night; worrying. Every time I thought of the letter, my heart sank.  Disappointed and depressed, I fell asleep.  I awoke the next morning only to be confronted with the same thoughts.  I quickly pulled out my Bible for my quiet time and pushed those thoughts aside.  The morning carried on as usual and I was far too busy to feel sorry for myself any longer.  It seemed to me that no one really cared anyway. I began to start the morning chores. I was in the middle of clearing off the stairs when I noticed I had a few books lying on the steps. I leaned to pick them up and caught sight of an envelope sticking out from within the pages.  Curiously, I took it out; only to discover that the letter I thought I had gotten rid of came back. I sighed. 
      "God just wants me to keep remembering this." I thought to myself.  I turned over the envelope, and to my surprise, there was writing on the back in pen. I looked closely; it was Mom's handwriting. It said,
      "God has bigger and better plans for you Kelle. Love you. Love, Mom." I sunk down on the steps; wallowing in myself.  Fighting back the tears, I knew she was right. I might have done a good job hiding my feelings, but Mom read right through me.  She knew what my heart was going through.  It's only something a mother and daughter can relate to. 

     I am thankful for my Mom. I am thankful for the way she encourages me and reminds me of my Father's love.  I appreciate her cooking and baking; cleaning and decorating.  I love how she can make our house so cozy when we come back in the evenings; all the candles lit and a plate of cookies on the counter.  She can make our house so inviting when people come over with just a few simple touches.  I love it that we can share our thoughts with each other.  I tell her what’s on my mind and she listens; even if it isn't of much importance.  I am thankful for her wisdom and insight into life.  I am so thankful for all that she has taught me; from history to science, to cooking and taking care of babies.  I like when we get good ideas, even if sometimes they don't turn out right.  I enjoy our shopping trips, our cleaning-out phases, and the little ways she makes money.  I can remember sitting on the widow seat in the summer, relaxing by the cool breeze through the window and the sound of Mom's voice as she read Little House on the Prairie to me.  She makes the best homemade bread, and is the smartest when it comes to eating healthy. She always seems to have an answer for my "health" questions.  I like it when she hangs the laundry outside on the line to dry; so clean and precise.  I like how she fixed our spice cabinet and pantry up with all the Mason jars. She finds some of the best deals in some of the best places.  I like it when my Dad mentions that he has a taste for a certain type of food, and the next day she will have made it for dinner.  I am thankful for all the sacrifices she made and still makes for us.  She mashed up food for me to eat after my Wisdom teeth surgery.  And also woke me up in the night to give me medicine so I wouldn't be in pain.  She was patient with me when I had the chicken pox and prayed over me every night.  She even rubbed Calamine lotion all over me (that stuff is just unpleasant).  Mom always makes things comfortable and homey.  


    She forgives me over and over when I mess up, and she still loves me.  She is my best friend.  I feel comfortable to come to her with any problem and pour out my heart. I am so thankful for the little things she does.  Sometimes I don't say it as often as I should.  Thankful God gave me my Momma.  (: 

    "Her children rise up and bless her; Her husband also, and he praises her, saying: “Many daughters have done nobly, But you excel them all.”Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her the product of her hands, And let her works praise her in the gates." Proverbs 31:28-31
 

A Baby Nephew.

I gently carried my nephew over to his crib and slowly laid him down.  It was 7:45pm and way past his bedtime. He started whimpering and sat up right as my arms left his little body. His big grey eyes looked up at me as they filled with tears, and his quivering lip pooched out. My heart melted. But knowing he was overtired, I knew I had to let him be. He let out a cry as I closed the door softly.  Not wanting to leave him, I pushed my ear closely against the door.  He was crying.  I stood close by for several minutes hoping he would fall asleep soon.  Ten minutes past and there was still no sleeping nephew. I cautiously crept into his bedroom.  He stood up, hopeful that I would grant his wish. I pick him up and held him, drying his tears.  Taking his blanket in one arm and him in the other, I walked over to the rocker and sat down.  Through the blinds, the moonlight fell upon us. He curled up his body and laid his head down on my shoulder.  I rocked back and forth, rubbing his back and running my fingers through his blonde hair. Looking up at me, he giggled. I held back my urge to return his smile. 

"No," I said softly, but sternly. "Lay back down." His feet wiggled through the blankets as he obediently laid his head back on my shoulder.  His long eyelashes batted up and down as he grew sleepier. Every few minutes his big eyes would hover over to my face.  I saw the excitement behind them, and the urge to giggle, run, and play with is Aunt.  He read my face as I hushed and kept on rocking.  Slowly, little by little, his eyes closed. I ran my ringers over his soft baby skin.  I breathed in the sweet smell of baby lotion. This was happiness; the feeling of a sleeping baby in my arms. He was so innocent and young; so happy and not having a care in the world. He slept so peacefully. I felt his body move up and down as he breathed and I felt his warm breath on my neck.  I sat there rocking him, not wanting this moment to pass. 

He makes me smile the way he giggles and bounces up and down whenever he sees us. I like the way he blinks those long eyelashes at me when I say "no".   I struggled to understand how anyone could not want a baby, or how someone could send something so sweet and beautiful away.  Could there be anything in this world cuter than my baby nephew?   I don't think so.        (: 

 

Friday.

   Friday night. Blades of grass brushed against my ankles as I ran from one end of the field to the other.  I breathed deeply, catching my breath.  The air was fresh and crisp. I stopped and looked upon my surroundings. The setting Sun was peering through the trees across the horizon.  Its rays cast perfect lighting on our Frisbee game. The breeze was gently blowing, and I looked across to the other end zone and watched as my team played defense.  Shouts of victory suddenly came as the opposing team made a miraculous catch, which I have to admit was pretty incredible. With heads hanging and feet dragging, my teammates made there way back to where I was standing.  High fives went around and voices of encouragement commented on the past few passes.  Determining to play harder, we picked up our hurt pride and set out to score.  Even though we were losing, I could feel the excitement from our team.  Voices of laughter and shouts of players communicating with each other flew through the air. 9:00 came all to fast as we picked up our belongings, looked for lost keys, and made our way back to my house.  We ended up losing, but I doubt half of my team even cares.

     I like running, and catching; high fives and "Go teams".  I like being able to laugh with friends when we make some awful throws. Or laugh at friends when they throw the Frisbee the complete opposite direction from where they intended it to go, almost hitting a moving car. ;)  I laugh as I remember my friend getting asked if I was "his mother" by some random people watching, not noticing the major height difference. I like being able to play with older friends, and younger friends. I love not having to worry about ages, but just having a good time with each other.

     I am thankful that God brought us out of the age-segregated mindset.  I can remember being involved in Sunday School and Youth Group with people "my own age". I remember thinking it was strange if you "hung out" with a younger child, or if you had a brief conversation with a parent that you were considered an "a-dult".  I remember if you said your siblings or your mother was your best friend you were looked down upon.  I look back thankful that God brought me some of the best friendships I have now.  Some of my best friends happen to be several years younger than me, and two of my best friends happen to be my mom and my sister. I love being with younger kids. The way they light up when you talk to them. And if I remember something they told me months ago, they think it's the greatest because a "big kid" remembered.  I have had some of the most interesting and intense conversations with ten year olds, and some of the funniest with forty year olds.  I learn new things from those "not" my age than I would from people my age. Funny how that works. (: 

   Thanking God for moments like these. (: