Who the boys are: two examples each
I just never imagined...

Playing along

Today was just a day, special and imperfect and ordinary. There were the down notes; it snowed, and was bitterly cold (a high of something crazy like 9 degrees). The boys had Monday school, and we had the usual kafuffle getting out the door, leaving me wondering if my commitment to homeschooling isn’t at least part school bus phobia.

But there were high notes too. Clay had the day off, and we spent all day together, working out and eating lunch at a restaurant I’ve wanted to try for SIX years. We ran errands and talked and talked and talked. He even looked at shoes with me, uncomplainingly. He is just my favorite person.

Max took a piece of art with him to school, to show his art teacher. It is his “art picture” and is made up of torn bits of paper, glued on a large sheet of poster paper. It’s not done, but wanted her to see it, so he hauled it with him to school. I looked at him, struggling to find a convenient way to carry such a large sheet of paper, and thought, hey, I gave him that paper, and didn’t even think about whether or not it would be a waste (often I am too practical for Max’s own good). And look at him, bringing his art to share with his teacher, unafraid. For all the complexity he has, there is much that is just so right and true.

At dinner Raphael, taking his turn telling about his day, spoke about his Science class with great passion. His words were rapid-fire, and he edged off his seat to stand and gesture freely. The teacher had asked a question, and everyone except Raphael had gotten it wrong (in his recollection).                            “And so she was…” he inclined his head modestly, “…sort of proud of me. Because I am kind of smart at science.” We all agreed that was true, even his brothers. At least, they didn’t object.

When Tre snuck up on his dad tonight (yes, he STILL DOES THAT), I was in the bath. I heard him call out, “Hi, Dad!” And his voice cracked, honest-to-goodness screeched up out of the range of human ears and then back down and…a tad huskier than I was prepared to hear. I lay still and listened to him, talking to his dad (“Did you hear that? I SQUEEKED. Weird.”), and a sweet, sharp pain pierced me. When I had kissed him goodnight earlier, he said to me with earnest sincerity, “I did good, not yelling at my brothers today, did you notice?” And he did. He really did.

It was just a day, good and bad, up and down. But now and then, it felt like music. Most days are like sight-reading, struggling to find the tempo, falling behind or stumbling ahead, finally laying it down with the intention of doing better next time. But for a few moments today, it all came together, and the varied sounds and beats and pauses of the day were suddenly music.



I love days like that. But, which restaurant did you go to? And was it worth the wait?

Jan in Norman, OK

Thanks so much for the "sight-reading" image. It really hits home today.


Yeah...what restaurant? Also, yesterday was Liz's 17th birthday. We're in serious countdown mode to adulthood. Yikes. I was looking at the old church website and found a photo of the two of you at youth camp. It's cliche but time really does fly.


note to self: apparently "kafuffle" is a word

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