DON'T TOUCH MY MASTERPIECE

In an attempt to drill home the significance that disicipline and organization play in good leadership, a professor in college drilled into our heads that a good leader makes his/her bed every morning.  This particular professor was known to make house calls from time to time during the semester to further emphasize his point.  It was all in good fun, of course, and the students loved the opportunity to spend time with one of their heroes.

A few weeks ago, without any prompting from my wife or I, Keziah started making her bed.  She has always been an obsessively organized child – perhaps a consequence of all the moving we have done over the years?  Everything has it’s special place and when Mia takes something that belongs to her sister, we don’t wonder whether or not Keziah is telling the truth.  More often than not, she can lead us to the very spot where she last left it and there you will find a little nook in the shape of whatever was stolen or not returned by her sister.  It’s borderline OCD, I’m afraid.   

At any rate, I have to say I was surprised at how well Keziah had made her bed – sheets tucked in, blanket perfectly square on the bed, bedspread turned down at the head of the bed, pillows situated just so.  There was even a little place for her “blanky” which was neatly folded. 

I was even more surprised the next morning when her bed was made again - just as it had been the previous morning.  Then the next day and the next day and the next.  I thought to myself, “What a good parent I amJ  Dr. Peters would be proud.  I have me a little leader here.”  This went on for about two weeks…every morning, a perfectly made bed.

One night while tucking Keziah in, I made the mistake of pulling back her covers so she could jump on in.  Without warning, she melted onto the floor and started crying.   Absolutely offended by what I had done, she erupted, “YOU MESSED UP MY BED!!!  NOW I’LL HAVE TO MAKE IT ALL OVER AGAIN!!!”  It was as if I had finger-painted on the canvas of Picasso’s greatest masterpiece.  How dare I!

I was sorta confused.  I didn’t mess up her bed.  I simply drew back the covers so she could hop inside.  I tried to explain to her that beds were made for sleeping in and that it would be just as easy for her to make her bed the following morning – after all, she had been making it for the past two weeks.  I found this tantrum strange, even for a child with anal-retentive tendencies, so I forced her to climb inside her bed.

Carefully, she lowered her head to the pillow without moving a single stuffed-animal.  Keeping her legs tight against her chest in a little ball, she laid motionless with a scowl on her face.  She refused to move a muscle.  It looked unnatural and very uncomfortable.  What is this child’s deal?  I sat at the foot of her bed and started asking questions.  Eventually, Keziah explained that she was angry at me for wrecking the bed she had worked so hard to make 2 weeks prior to that fateful evening.  “Two weeks?  What do you mean?  You made it this morning, right?”  Not exactly.  You see, Keziah had only made her bed once over the last 14 days.  All this time, she had been allowing us to tuck her in.  After we left the room, she would climb out of her bed, straighten the blankets, and then cover herself with a small blanket meant to be a toy for her teddy bear.  The next morning, all she had to do was get up, rub her hand over the wrinkles she had made in her bed, and drape teddy’s blanket over the corner of her rocking chair.  Voila – A good leader!

As I got a shower this morning, I felt like the Lord was speaking to my heart about this whole ordeal.  It’s definitely ridiculous, but is it really that foreign of a concept?  If I don’t mess up my bed, I don’t have to make it.  Plain and simple.  Sure, I won’t be as comfortable – I may get cold, or stiff from trying to lay so still.  I won’t be able to rest as well and the anxiety of trying to keep the bed beautiful may prevent me from dreaming.  But at least I won’t have made a mess, right?  When others come into my room, they will feel like they’ve entered a museum – everything perfectly in its place.   They will admire the orderly environment I’ve created. They won’t, of course, be allowed to touch anything.  Cause if they do, they might mess it up.  And if I’m not making messes, neither are you?

Sometimes I get in the habit of not living in my life just so I don’t have to mess it up.  I’d rather deal with being cold and stiff, poorly rested, and unable to dream than to jump in head first, toss and turn, and deal with the ups and downs that come along with having vision for my life.  I look like a good leader in the morning when I sleep on the surface – I’m balanced and careful and create an environment that’s orderly.  With time, it’s easy to believe that the absence of messes in my life proves I really am a good leader…that I am worthy when I am perfect.  After all, “Good leaders make their beds in the morning.”

But by that same rationale, any hint of imperfection, any struggle that exposes my humanity completely disqualifies me from leadership and from living life altogether.  Because my bed is unmade, I am unworthy.  So I find ways to live outside my life.  Above the covers.  On the surface.  My obsession with not making a mess causes me to live without taking risks.  And other people are certainly a risk.  I cannot tolerate others living in my life because they too might make a mess and then I will feel unworthy (or maybe just make them feel unworthy).  And truthfully, I’d rather not feel anything at all.  “Feeling” is also messy.  I’ve done it before and it hurt, so now that I’ve made my bed for the last time…whatever you do…Don’t – touch – my – masterpiece.

Enter the little sister.

She doesn’t care about your masterpiece.   She isn’t mean or angry.  She just isn’t afraid of messes.  She sees life as something to be lived in – used, enjoyed.  What’s the point of having a life if you can’t rest in it, dream in it, and wrestle with it till you are comfortable.  You might have a mess in the morning, but you can always make it and try again. 

Mia doesn’t sleep on top of the covers – she jumps into life…ALL THE WAY!  When she gets up in the morning, her hair is a wreck, pillows are everywhere, and her blankets are on the floor.  She will clean it up when it’s time but before she does, of course, there is something more pressing.  She needs to show Keziah something…

How to mess up HER bed!!!!

Come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about.   And you know exactly how you respond when that person climbs right up onto your masterpiece and starts jumping.  Pillows are bopping you upside the head and your blankets have become their cape.  Now your mattress is hanging out for everyone to see and there are a few stains from some accidents you had when you were less “mature” than you are now.  How will you be worthy now?  How can you lead if you have a mess?  It’s easier to focus your energy on being angry with whoever that person is who took a risk on your behalf and ripped off all the covers.  But what’s really eating away at you is that you knew what was underneath the sheets.  And now that it can be seen, you’re afraid you are disqualified.  That you are unworthy.

This morning in the shower, I remembered tucking in my little girl.  I wasn’t mad when I pulled back her covers and destroyed her bed, I was just tucking her in.  In fact, I just wanted to snuggle with her.  To bless her dreams as she fell into a deep sleep.  It’s true, I wasn’t concerned about messing up her masterpiece because to me, her value has nothing to do with how beautiful her bed looks.  Beds were meant to be slept in.  Life was meant to be lived in.  The messes that result are par for the course.  We just need to be willing to face them the next morning.

How do I respond when God wants to pull back the covers and cuddle with me?  When he wants to bless my dreams as I enter into His rest?  To what lengths will I go to cover the stains from accidents of the past where for some reason, I still feel shame?  And why am I so convinced your mattress looks any better?  But most importantly, why do I still believe that the perfection of my performance dictates my value to the Father?    

This may be bad parenting – I’m sure I’ll only know long after it’s too late – but I’ve committed myself for the next two weeks to stressing the importance of messing up one’s bed.  Knowing Keziah, this will be a traumatic experience for her at first, but I’m hoping natural kid instincts will kick in and she will start to enjoy destroying her masterpiece each evening.  But each morning, when I’ve been satisfied that her bed is absolutely in shambles, I’m gonna do what God does for us and I’m gonna help her make it.  I want to reclaim the childlike part of her heart that isn’t afraid of making messes in life - because she knows she has a Father who will help put her life back together again when she does.  Maybe I’ll learn a little something myself.

Perhaps it’s true that good leaders make their beds every morning.  But good leaders also sleep IN their beds the night before.  And good leaders encourage others to pull back the pretty covers and live in their own life without the fear of making messes.  

8 Hours Later...

DaddyDaughter Photo Shoot

This weekend, while my wife was out with some friends, I decided to take Keziah and Mia for a walk...a "photo-shoot".  It was a beautiful day and Keziah loves to take pictures.  Which works well because Mia loves to model.  In fact, Keziah tends to be most comfortable behind the camera while Mia will do just about anything to push her way to the end that captures an image of herself.

Just before we left, Keziah got mad about something and threw a fit.  It was a good opportunity for us to talk about art and how it truly is a reflection of what is in our hearts...that what's on the inside always rises to the surface, regardless of what venue we choose to express ourselves.  If she was stressed out or upset, it would be reflected in her pictures.  Perhaps a complicated concept for a five year old, but she seemed to understand.  We took a moment and prayed.  We asked God to help us capture His beauty in our pictures and to open our eyes to see it when we encounter it.  Mia, in the meantime, was looking for her shoes (which seem to be constantly lost) and sneaking cookies that Janelle had made the night before.
When Keziah had calmed herself down and felt at peace, we headed out the door.

Keziah loves to talk.  Especially when she is excited.  We talked about colors and textures and angles and whether or not to zoom in or zoom out.  I don't actually know what the professionals would say about these things, but that wasn't the point.  I wasn't trying to teach her anything.  I just wanted to engage with my little girl and to hear what is most important to her when she expresses herself.

About every block or so, Keziah saw something that stood out to her as beauty.  Of course, our model was usually off picking weeds and finding sticks several houses away.  Once we could convince her to stop digging in the dirt, Mia would come back and strike a pose, which Keziah directed firmly but patiently.  More than once, Mia decided to free-style and offered just a few too many of her own ideas for Keziah's liking.  With a stomp of the foot and flick of the hair, Keziah would turn off her hand-me-down digital camera and walk away.  Usually, Mia reluctantly responded by posing the way Keziah had originally instructed...but at least a few times, Keziah got a fitful of weeds thrown at the back of her head.  It was funny to watch.

Keziah chose our route and Mia committed herself to perfecting "top model" poses that made Keziah and I laugh.  I did my best to capture our outing with my iPhone while enjoying my little beauties.  Near the end of our excursion, we stumbled upon a grassy area where a large tree had lost it's blossoms and bright pink pedals covered the ground.  It was a gift from the Lord which reminded me of a scene out of "Anne of Green Gables".  The girls pretended they were princesses and we took our final pictures for the day.  I'm so thankful for my beautiful family and the amazing ways he has gifted each of my daughters.

Here are a few of the moments I was able to capture:

I pray I never allow my fears to hurt my pioneer

"What's a pioneer?"

As a parent with prophetic children, you gotta be ready to answer questions like these at the drop of a dime - there is no time to prepare lofty theological answers that make you feel good about your response.  And your children, if they are anything like mine, won't accept them anyway.  I am convicted that there are moments as a parent where I must choose my words very carefully, that the way I define life and it's issues will ultimately reflect on how my children view God Himself.   This was one of those moments.

"A pioneer is someone who has the courage to think, say, or do something that people around them are too afraid to try."

I don't know how that will hold up to the webster definition, but I felt like it was important that she understand that how someone responds to fear will often times determine whether or not they are able to be a pioneer.

I asked her if she can think of any pioneers in history.  We started with the basics...George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr. - people she had learned about in school.  We talked about the issues they confronted in our culture that caused fear to come up in the hearts of the people around them.  It was fun to watch Keziah's eyes begin to fill with life as revelation began to touch her heart.

She paused for a moment.  I could tell she was wrestling with something.  I asked my five-year old what she was thinking and she said that she thinks she knows a few pioneers herself.  She asked me if this was possible?  "Are pioneers only old people?"

I have been trying to work on asking questions rather than giving answers to people - not just with my children, but all across the board.  So rather than telling her what I think, I asked her if she thinks you have to be old in order to think, say, or do something that others are too afraid to try themselves.  I could tell this was a God-given opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with my little girl.

She decided that young people can be pioneers too.  She began to talk about some close friends of my wife and I who are working to raise the standard of living for a poverty-stricken people group in the mideast.  She put special emphasis on the wife of my friend who she recently met and who impacted her little heart significantly.  Keziah felt that this woman is a pioneer because if it were her, she'd be really afraid to leave her parents and have kids in a place that was so different.  She started to stutter over her words a bit (her mind comprehends more than her vocabulary can express).  But from what I gathered, she was realizing that in this specific situation, she was one of the people who would be too afraid to try - not the pioneer.

She paused again.  She doesn't like me to look at her while she is thinking.  Get's self-conscious.  The tv was on so we watched for a few minutes.  It kills me to give her that space.  I didn't want the conversation to end there, but I have to learn to trust God to direct the hearts of my children.  She could probably feel my anxiety as I waited to see if she had exhausted her little mind past what it could handle in this conversation.

To my relief, after a few minutes, she began to ask me questions about a good friend of mine who recently was murdered.  He was most definitely a pioneer.  For obvious reasons, I haven't shared the details surrounding his death with her, but she has most certainly witnessed me grieving over the last few weeks.  After determining that he too was a pioneer and discussing some of the things he did that others were too afraid to try, Keziah switched her focus back to the people who are afraid.  She asked me if I thought the person who killed my friend was a bad man?

I'm glad that I didn't have a chance to answer because the truth is, I don't think my answer would have been entirely accurate.  She continued, "...Cause I don't think he was.  I think he was just afraid."

Hmmmm...I had to think for a little bit.  I didn't like that answer.  I wanted to defend something, I don't even know what.  But I knew this was one of those moments where my response was telling my little girl who God is and that I better be careful cause I wasn't sure I was in touch with His heart on this matter.

I told her that not all people who are afraid are bad and that I think she might be right.  Maybe when we look at what happened to my friend through God's eyes, He doesn't see a monster...maybe He sees someone who is afraid.  God was using my little girl to reframe the situation for me in a way that made my heart break for the person who took my friend's life.

I explained to Keziah that fear can make people who we would consider "good" do very bad things.  She had already identified herself as someone who had fear in her heart.  I told her that she isn't a bad person, but that the fear inside of her can keep her from being a pioneer and can even make her be someone who hurts other pioneers.  I don't know if she understood with her mind everything that I said to her but her spirit was very much alive and I was choking back tears.

Then she told me that she thinks I am a pioneer cause I think church is like a family.  Then she said that she is one too - because even though she is still young, she hears God.

I gotta tell you, there wasn't a whole lot more to say after that.  We went back to watching cartoons while I sat with my arm around her and thanked God for giving me such an amazing little girl who really is a pioneer.  I pray I never allow my fears to hurt my pioneer.

Maybe these are questions we all should wrestle with.  If my five year old can, what's our excuse?
*Are you a pioneer?
*Are there fears keeping you from becoming one?
*Are the fears in your heart causing you to hurt other pioneers?

Find God everywhere - including the mundane!

From time to time, I get the pleasure of stepping back and allowing God to speak through my children to someone other than myself...like...MY WIFE!!!  

Janelle and I have been on a journey over the last 10+ years pursuing God's heart for the nations.  The road has been long and frustrating as we have attempted to walk through doors that we thought were open but were really closed, doors that had been open but that got shut in our face halfway through the threshold, or else doors that we probably knew were closed in the first place but that we hoped we could break open if we ran at them full force.  We've come to the conclusion that the dream God has placed in our hearts to spread the Kingdom overseas really comes from Him, but that the timing for whatever reason isn't quite right.  In the meantime, we meet the need to travel by doing lame things that make us feel like we have moved out of the country - we rearrange furniture.  Ha.  That sounded even more lame when I read it back to myself than it did when I thought it in my head.  Sometimes we paint walls or switch all our bedrooms around.  We've even been known to buy a new house, live in it for a year or two, and flip for a profit.  

For the most part, God seems to bless our endeavor to cope with the burden He has placed in us.  But every now and then, restlessness takes over that is clearly not from Him and we find ourselves struggling with discontent.  

This morning, while lying in bed, Janelle decided we should move - again.  I suggested she check her heart and explore whether or not she is feeling fulfilled by the Lord.  Right about then, Keziah came to our bedroom and wanted to show us a letter she wrote for us while we were sleeping in (or trying to).  I took a picture, just to rub it in...

Word for the day:  Change for the sake of change will only bring temporary satisfaction.  You can't run from discontent.  Find God everywhere - including the mundane.

"I love you Daddy and Mommy.  You are the ants in your pants mommy.  Daddy you are the best singer ever Daddy."

"You just don't wanna deal with my mess."

Was making lunch for my daughter this afternoon and turned around to find her pouring grape juice into a cup by herself - and I'm not talking white grapes.  I quickly hurried over to her without making too much noise.  I didn't want to startle her and in the process cause her to make the mess which I suspected was about to be made anyway.  I came around from behind her grabbed the jug out of her right hand and braced the cup with my left.

"Lemme help you with that.  You don't wanna make a mess."

As soon as I said it, I knew I was wrong - and that Mia was going to tell me about it.

"No, dad, it's not that.  You just don't wanna deal with my mess."

The way she said it stung - her choice of words...DEAL.  I began to think about it.  She was right.  The potential "mistake" would have been inconsequential - what, a little spilled juice and some stained clothes?  Not really that big of a deal.  This kid has only a few articles of clothing left that aren't stained anyway.  What's a few more?

The truth is, apart from fearing my response to her mistake, she really didn't care all that much if she spilled the juice.  I just didn't feel like being inconvenienced with her mess.  And that's when I felt the Lord tug on my heart and ask me some hard questions - questions that expose how I view Him as a Father... "Is that what you think I feel about you?  That the messes you make when you try something new inconvenience me?  That I'm hovering over your shoulder waiting for the slightest hint of a mistake so I can take over and just do it myself?  Do you think i DEAL with you and your condition, that I put up with you?"

So often, I make decisions with the perspective that their consequences are about to define my entire life.  Nagging at my heart somewhere in the background noise is the fear that I'll make a mess and that I'll put those around me - God Himself - in a position to have to DEAL with me.  I need to remind myself that God is not afraid of what might happen if I fail Him.  That He knows the end from the beginning and isn't intimidated by my imperfections.  He doesn't deal with me.  He wants me.  The areas where I lack do not inconvenience my Father.

Maybe it's time for some adults to join "children's church"

Mia often talks to herself and I find that when I listen in, I am sometimes given the opportunity to witness some pretty amazing conversations between herself and the Lord.

This afternoon, she has been talking to herself about what Jesus looks like.  When I asked what she was saying, she told me she thought His hair would be longer than it is cause of the way she has seen him drawn in her books.  Mia has a thing for hair.  Her best friend Logan (who she insists she will someday marry) one time told her after getting a hair cut that he liked it better long.  Around the same time, she began to memorize the songs from the Disney movie "Tangled" and since then will not allow anyone close to her hair with a pair of scissors.  She wants it long like Rapunzel and will not be happy until it touches the ground.

She continued, "But He doesn't look like a girl in real life.  And His hair isn't really that long."  I asked her how she knows so much about Jesus' hair and when the last time she saw Him was.  Listen to this - She told me that He likes to come when there are lots of kids all together in one place.

I like that.

She said the last time she saw Jesus was when Karla was teaching the kids at our house church.  Hmmm...I wonder if Karla knows that while she was no doubt struggling to deal with the behavioral issues that surface when 20+ kids under the age of 8 are crammed into a livingroom/dining room...that Jesus himself was sitting in on the lesson and showing my daughter the difference between how He really looks vs how the children's bible depicts Him.

It's an interesting thought to ponder...
I wonder how often the filter of how others have depicted Him to us conflicts with His true image?  I wonder how different He looks in person from the way we perceive Him to be?  Is He kinder?  More gentle?  Is he patient and caring?  Does he seem to understand us or is he sorta distant and stoic?  Is He happy or sad or angry?

Perhaps we should consider whether or not what we see when we look at Him lines up with who He actually is.

Diagnosis: Fart in the Heart Disease

Last night, I was playing "Doctor" with my daughters and suddenly, without warning, Mia began to feel a cramp in her stomach.  She had spontaneously developed a condition which may be as foreign to you as it was to me.  She had a fart lodged in her heart.

This morning as I was telling a friend about her strange disease, I joked that it sounded like a prophetic word for someone.  Then I got to thinking...maybe it really is a prophetic word.  Last night when she first mentioned the fart in her heart, I laughed (potty humor is still funny to me) and asked her how she thinks of these crazy things.  What stands out to me is her response...

"I don't have thoughts.  You THINK.  But I just DO."

So there it is.  Perhaps the disease is not so foreign after all.  It's no doubt a word for me at times, but perhaps it applies to you as well.  It's symptoms include the translation of the words God is speaking to us into complicated thoughts, deep "processes", unhealthy introspection, and flesh-driven pondering?  Are we always working through something or trying to understand or figure out what we are receiving from the Lord before responding in obedience?

If these symptoms apply, you may be a victim of "Fart in the Heart" disease.

So what's the prescription?  Perhaps we need to take a spiritual antacid, release that bubble of hot air stuck in our hearts (let's just call it what it is...control), and start to ACT on what God speaks to us, rather than process through it.  Maybe Mia was onto something.  What would happen if believers everywhere stopped wrestling with our inadequacies and actually trusted our ability to hear God speak?  How much more effective would we be if we spent less time trying to understand and weigh the consequences of our obedience and spent more time stepping out with faith on what we hear?  Sure, it might get a little messy at times.  But I can't imagine that in the long run, holding a "fart in the heart" will result in less of a mess.  Now might be a good time to stop with the analogy.

So today I'm repenting for being too careful and cautious (in the name of wisdom) and for trying too hard to do it all perfectly.  I'm releasing control - the control of myself - and choosing to respond with faith to the voice of God when I hear it.  I believe that God can speak to me clearly enough to help me stay in the center of His will and that if I somehow misunderstand what He is saying and make a mess, that he is a good Father and will turn my messes into something that is beautiful.

  

God speaks to me when I sleep

A few weeks ago, Mia came down from her nap, got my attention, and threw herself on the floor.  She laid there for a few seconds with her arms and legs all sprawled out and then picked herself up and said,
"Dad...if we wanna learn how to stand, we also gotta learn how to fall."
I asked her how she knew that and she replied, "God speaks to me when I sleep."

There was a "push" in my dance

As I read over my FaceBook status updates from 2010/2011, I am struck by the extreme differences in the way God has designed my daughters and their little (or should i say, big) personalities.   Two children, 15 months apart, the same gender, raised by the same parents...and yet polar opposites in many regards.  They have some similarities - for example, both are gorgeous, very smart, and sensitive to the needs of others.  They have an astounding relationship with the Lord as well - even at their young age.  But for all their similarities, I absolutely adore their differences.  

Here is a perfect illustration of what I'm talking about:

6/4/11
Keziah is turning 5 Tuesday! We got her a goldfish - it's her first pet.  Now, if only I can keep Mia from killing it. She already asked if she can poke it.

...a few months later, I wrote this:

8/10/11

Kezi's bday fish died today. When she discovered it, Keziah bawled her eyes out and wanted us to discuss with her the ins and outs of death - why, where did it go, will the same thing happen to her, what will happen to her if Janelle and I die, etc. 

When Mia heard the news, she said "I think it's in the trash. Can I see it?" Two very different kids. 

Mia was right. It was in the trash. She asked if she could see it and so I...well...I showed her. Is that bad?  She was going to search for it anyway.  I figured I might as well give a supervised visitation.  Who knows what would happen under other circumstances.  Mia thought it was pretty cool at first and tried to poke it (as u will recall from an earlier post, she had asked if she could when we first got it) and then decided it was gross and yelled "ew."

 Kezi...cried some more. 

Here are some more that stand out to me.  Certain reoccurring themes will not escape your attention:

Keziah... 

1/19/10
I'm wondering what to tell my 3 year-old (Keziah), when totally unprompted by me or my wife, she tells us that parents who don't want their babies put them in trash cans and asks if we can have them instead. Be praying this week against the abortion "super center" that is being established in Houston, Texas.

10/14/10
While Keziah was looking at pictures of janelle and i, tears started dripping down her cheeks. We asked her why she was crying and she said, "cause I love u so much." 

09/10/10
My little Mia is sick and staying home from school with me today. When Keziah heard this, she started crying and wanted to stay home too. She said, "I need to stay home. Or else Mia will get all the hugs."

6/11/11
Keziah is nervous for her pre-k graduation. She asked janelle if she can go out and wait in the van. Mia was having a temper tantrum and in kezi's words, "I just can't handle this before my graduation." 

3/10/11

Keziah - "Dad, you know what I like about you? That you drink wine so much." 

Mia...

09/05/10
Mia touched my heart today when she said all on her own, "daddy, I love u..." and then she burst my bubble when under her breath I heard her call me a "...poopy butt."

10/02/10
During worship, my wife was holding Mia.  She looked down & saw her eyes closed & lips moving with what appeared to be an intense expression of adoration for the Father on her face.  Touched by this, Janelle leaned in to hear her singing "poopy butt."

12/03/10
Mia didn't just pee in her pants. Her baby "spit" in them.

6/2011
Mia just hit kezi and was given the option of having a time-out or apologizing. She asked for a time out. Really?


6/20/11
Last night, Janelle and i were trying to encourage Keziah to stop sucking her thumb - now that she is 5 and a big girl. Mia wanted to help. 

"Instead of sucking my fingers, I just stick them in my nose," she offered. And up her nostrils they went.

6/4/11
U know ur tan is fading when ur 3 year old is singing "Jesus loves the little children" and tells u not to forget YOUR skin color - "kinda purpley." I had no idea it was that bad.


5/26/11
"dont touch me. I have a personal bubble around me."

4/2/11
Mia's impromptu prayer before nap: "dear larrrrrrd (heavy on the "r"), please take kezi to jail. Amen."

3/6/11
While dancing in the livingroom, without warning, Mia ran over and pushed Keziah. When asked the cause of her assault, Mia replied, "there was a push in my dance." 

Of course. What was I thinking?