Excerpts from a recent Friday at our house, illustrating life with four boys:
“Ok, Daddy, come on and let me spank you. Bend over.”
“My word! River, no! You don’t throw cereal on the floor!” (A few seconds later) “Tris! Don’t stomp on that cereal!”
“Mom, on my birthday can it be movie day and computer day?”
“Riv went poopoo in the potty chair? Can I see?”
“You two sit down in the middle of the floor, hold hands, and look at each other. Don’t get up ’til I tell you to.”
We had a good, busy day yesterday. We had a small party for Morgon’s belated birthday, and had our neighbors, Jerry and Erika’s family, and Rick and Katie’s family come over to go trick-or-treating in our neighborhood with us and hang out afterward.
I had to run to the grocery store for some lettuce for supper, and was asked by a cheerful homeless lady on my way out if she could wash my van windows for some change for something to eat. I was in a hurry, so I gave her a dollar and went on.
It’s all River’s fault.
We’ve been in the early stages of potty-training with him, and lately have been trying to catch him before he goes in his diaper, which explains why this morning I was careening through the house to fetch the potty chair before it was too late.
Somehow my little toe intercepted the corner of the wall on my way by.
The wall didn’t budge.
At first I thought that it was just the injured toenail causing the pain, but as I grabbed it (yelling), I felt the bones grinding together.
I met another of our neighbors yesterday, but in the most unusual way yet.
I had walked with Morgon a couple blocks to Jerry and Erika’s house drop him off so he could play basketball with Malachi. Erika gave me a plate of ours to take home, and I started back.
As I rounded the corner to our street, I saw a dog walking and sniffing around on my side of the road. She looked to be a pit bull mix, not too big, but I didn’t see an owner anywhere. I crossed to the other side of the road and kept going.
I’ve found that the question I’m always asked when people find out I’ve moved out to Sacramento from Tennessee is, “Did you move due to your job?”
“No,” I tell them, followed by some variant of, “I came out here because I felt like it’s what God wanted me to do.”
I’ll usually then get a strange look from them.
So now I’m going to ask the question I keep wondering: why is that strange?
So, we’ve done this crazy thing and moved 2200 miles away from our friends and family, simply because we felt God calling us to, and he must have something to do out here, right? It continues to be an incredible lesson in living by faith, waiting on the Lord, and looking for him everywhere. I get the question a lot, “So what brought you to Sacramento?” It’s pretty funny the look on peoples’ faces when we try and explain–most seem to think it’s pretty strange, stupid, or weird.
Ok, ok, I know. It’s been waaay too long without any posts on this blog. Well, there’s been a lot of big changes in life recently, so I beg your forgiveness, and will try and remedy the situation with a quick summary, and then get back to work trying to write more regularly.
So here’s the news:
Our family moved to Sacramento, California in late October.
Why did we move? In a nutshell, to be with some friends out here who have asked us to come and help them try to have deeper fellowship, and to see what God wants to do out here.