If you are feeling scared... tools of bravery for someone who is only 6

Earlier this week one of my children did not want to go to school.  She explained that she knew that they were going to have a substitute and she was really nervous about it.  We talked a little, and I tried to be reassuring, but when the morning came she was very anxious and started crying and begging me to let her stay home.

I sat down and looked into her distressed eyes.  "I know you are nervous.  But you know what?  The substitute might be nervous too.  He or she has never met your class before.  And you have 30 kids in your class, that's a lot of new people.  Even for a grown up."

She looked at me with slight disbelief.  I'm not sure that it had occurred to her that a grown up might get nervous.  "What do you think we could do to help the substitute?"  We talked for a while about some options and then we sat down and worked on a note.

This is what it said,

Dear Substitute Teacher,
I was really nervous to go to school today, because I've never met you before.  But then my mama said that you might be nervous too.  So I had an idea.  If you are feeling scared, just look at me and I will smile and give you a thumbs up.
I think we will both have a good day.
Luv, An Anxious-no-more Friend

(It actually read her real name)


With a new sense of purpose, she folded up the note into a small square, and she held it as we drove to school.  She held it as she skipped into her class.  (something that she has NEVER done before.) Then she cautiously handed it over to the nice young man who introduced himself as her substitute.

He read the note and smiled.  He thanked her for the note, and then he admitted to both of us in a way that appeared quite earnest, "Actually I am REALLY NERVOUS!!!"

Sometimes being brave is simply being honest about where you are, and having the courage to reach out to someone else in spite of your own feelings of anxiety.  I was so thankful for this outcome, and the beauty of two very different people from different walks of life aligning, out from under fear, because they knew they weren't alone.

When what you have to offer will barely make a dent, Dream Big.

Several months ago a couple of my kids wanted to go spend some of their hard earned spending money to purchase some small pieces of plastic personified food and housewares.  (It is a particular toy item that I will not choose to advertise here.) My husband learned of their plan and gave them an inspiring talk about not wasting money on that kind of thing.  He talked to them about saving it for something bigger, or more useful.  I listened with skepticism.  I didn't think his talk would have any effect on their desire to spend.

I was wrong.  Really wrong.  In fact, I'm a little sad that I didn't stick around to hear all of what he said.  All I know is that after a brief pep talk, two kids emerged from our room with a resolve to combine their resources and save for something "really big".  They talked for a while and they came to me, excited about their new plan.

"We are going to save our money for a trip to go to Bolivia.  How much does it cost to go to Bolivia?" (They have a beloved set of grandparents that live in Bolivia, and we often talk about going to visit them some day.)

I almost didn't want to answer, because I didn't want to discourage them, but I said, "Well, it will cost about $2000."

Without stopping to truly absorb what I had just said, the oldest child calculated out loud.  "Okay, so if we both go, that's $4000, and we should take at least one grown up with us, so that's $6000.  And right now with all of our money together we have $40.  So we just need another...  Five thousand, Nine hundred and ....  Sixty dollars."

I nodded.  "Yep, that's all.  Except if you two save up four thousand dollars to go to Bolivia, Mama or Papa will pay our own way."  It was really the least I could offer.

In that moment, I realized something.  I am easily overwhelmed or deterred when the task in front of me is larger than the resources that I personally have access to.  Broken down buildings that I can't fix, or amounts of money that sum up to several hundred times over what I actually have to offer.  I quickly see it as beyond me.

But God invites us in to that place.  To offer our small into His Big and experience something that is beyond us.

Walk into that place.  If you are having trouble with that can I make a suggestion?

Connect yourself to a child.  They have too much faith to dream small dreams.

When I grow up I want to be like the Crossing Guard Lady.

After a very full summer, we are back into the routine that fall brings and I am going to try to pick back up on the blog.

About a week before school started, we found out that the girls got in to the school with a Spanish Immersion Program that is close to our house.  They were a little apprehensive about a new school, and not knowing anyone, but I reminded them several times that their new school had 2 recesses instead of 1 recess.  (I still speak the language of 'The Elementary School Student.')  

So there are a lot of things that I really like about our new school, but I have to tell you about one of my favorites. 

The Crossing Guard Lady.  I actually do know her name, but for the sake of anonymity, I will just refer to her as "The Crossing Guard Lady."

On the first day that we walked into school I noted that she was slightly dramatic in the way that she stopped traffic for kids who were crossing the street.  She held her stop sign way up and stretched out her arms and took a very broad protective stance.  I smiled at her and she greeted the kids as they were crossing.  

The girls did okay on their first couple days of school.  They reported some typical "new kid" issues.  They felt lost on the playground.  They didn't know what to do with themselves during recess.  They wished for friends.  I knew the first days would be a little hard, but it didn't make it any less painful for them, or for me.  

On about the third day of school, we parked in our usual place across the street from the school, and we started walking toward the crosswalk.  As we were walking, on the other side of the street a car came zipping down the road. The Crossing Guard Lady went crazy.  "SLOOOWW DOOOOWWNN!!"  She was yelling and wildly waving her arms.  Her stop sign was flapping up and down like a giant wing, as she tried to get the attention of Mr. Speedy McSpeedster in the School Zone.  The driver saw her and immediately slowed to almost a stop.  

The Crossing Guard Lady got a big smile on her face. Then, she gave the driver a thumbs up sign and waved her on.  It was a simple gesture but I could almost hear the inner dialogue that went with her thumbs up. "Yes, that is how we drive in the school zone.  I know you'll remember for next time."

By that time we had reached the crosswalk and The Crossing Guard Lady held her stop sign up, and dramatically stepped out into the street.  "Okay Folks, It's safe to cross now!  Have a good day!"  Then she made eye contact with me.  "And, yes," she said pleasantly.  "I DO yell at cars because your babies are my babies."  

At that moment those were such beautiful words to my mama heart.  That's what I want.  I want someone who is going to care deeply for my kids when I can't be there.    As her words sank into my heart I felt a lump in my throat.  At that moment she was my favorite person in the whole world.

After I took the girls to their classrooms I stopped to thank The Crossing Guard Lady for her strong work. As we started to talk a little tiny girl called her name.  She turned and the girl ran to her for a hug.  They hugged and then The Crossing Guard Lady looked at her watch.  "Guess what honey?  You are ALMOST on time.  If you run real quick, you might make it to class without a Tardy Slip."  The little girl smiled and started running toward the school building.  I watched and said, "That's how we roll sometimes.  ALMOST on time."  The Crossing Guard Lady looked at me and smiled.  "I'm just glad that she's here."  No judgement. Just grace.

As I reflected later about the morning, I was struck by her simple act of grace as she offered a smile to the reformed school zone speeder.

When I am in positions of authority, and I have a policing role, I am much more likely to offer an extended stink eye for good measure.  But the reassuring smile and the thumbs up was so gracious.

I want to start being more like the Crossing Guard Lady.  I want to put my heart fully into the work in front of me, and I want to generously offer grace in the places I am tempted to judge.  

And I want to treat your babies as if they are my babies.

I hope your school has a Crossing Guard Lady who is even half as sweet and beautiful as our Crossing Guard Lady.

To Anyone who has ever nurtured the heart of a child

This weekend I had an opportunity to help out at a large kids event that happens weekly in nearby city. At this event there were different stations that the kids were rotating through and I was helping at the craft station.  This week, in light of Mother's Day, the craft was to make a Mother's Day card. We'd already had two groups of kids cycle through when the older group of kids came.
The directions were simple. "Mother's Day Cards!  Here are the markers.  Decorative papers.  Glue. Have Fun!"  I helped a couple kids before I saw a girl out of the corner of my eye.  She was sitting on the floor against the wall on the side of the room.  I walked over to her.  "Do you want to make a card?"  She shook her head.  "I don't..." she searched for words, "... really celebrate Mother's Day."  I nodded.  Her eyes looked tired.  Not a sleepy kind of tired.  A life long weariness kind of tired.  I know nothing of her story, but I could almost feel the ache of her heart.  I wasn't sure how to respond.  "Do you want a blank piece of paper to just draw?"  She shook her head again.  "No, I'll just stay here."
I wanted to help.  I wanted to be able to comfort her aching heart.  I wanted to do something... but I couldn't think of anything.  I had no words to offer, so simply said, "Okay," and I walked back to my post and continued with helping all the other card makers.  A few minutes later I heard a voice, "Actually, can I have a blank paper?"  I turned and I saw the same girl.  We got her a paper and I watched as she went to work.  She had written a sweet message and added several decorative touches before she started to talk.
"I'm making this for my teacher.  She is a really good teacher.  She's almost kind of like a mom.  She's really protective.  She doesn't let people bully, and she cares about kids.  She's good.  She's protective."  Then she smiled proudly as she carefully folded her paper into a handmade envelope that she had stapled herself.

It was remarkable to me to see the change in her countenance as she talked about her teacher.  I wish her teacher could have seen what I saw.  Dear teacher, you brought joy to a hurting kiddo today.  You reminded her that there was someone in her world who cares and protects.  For some reason the very term "Mother's Day" hurts her heart, but you helped her hold on to what she thinks a mother should be. You may not feel like you are doing much and maybe to you it wasn't... but to this kiddo, in this moment, you were a thread of hope in a sea of hurt.

One of my favorite parts in all of the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis is found in the book, The Horse and His Boy.  The Lion is revealing to the boy, Shasta all the places that He has been with him and He says, "There was only one Lion.  I was the Lion who..."  and then he names all the ways that he had protected and saved him and directed his steps.  I think of this young life, and her teacher who has been a "protective,"  and I hope that many years down the road she will be able to look back and see God's provision for her in the midst of her pain.

On this Mother's Day I want to honor my mother.  I am thankful for all of the ways that she gave of herself when I was a kiddo, and for all of the ways that she has supported me as I mother my own kiddos.  

But I want to acknowledge the other unsung heroes on this day.  There are so many people who give and nurture the hearts of our children whose efforts are often overlooked.  There are a lot of "childless" mothers out there who are doing a lot of mothering. And there are mothers who are mothering many more than they actually birthed.

Thank you. You all represent the teacher in this story.  You invest and you care and you give of yourself, and you may think that no one sees.  But somewhere there is a child carefully coloring a picture.  Choosing markers that represent your favorite sports team, and folding up a paper with a seemingly scribbled message. When you open it please see beyond the words and look into the eyes of the child who wrote it.  There is a light... and there is a hope because you are a part of her life.

Happy Mother's Day to you.  You are seen.

Why people run

Last week while we were jogging, my friend and I witnessed a vehicle hit and run.  We were running along the sidewalk and suddenly a small SUV plowed into the car that was parked right next to us as we ran by.  The SUV didn't even try to stop.  They just kept driving even though it meant that they acted as a bulldozer pushing the small Jetta forward until it was pushed out of the way. Neither of us were hurt at all, but I think we were both a little shaken.  Later when I was talking to my husband about what happened we started talking about the courage that it takes to do what is right, and why people run.

At dinner that night I talked about what had happened.  We talked with the kids about how everybody makes mistakes.  Everyone.  But when we do something that causes damage or hurts someone, we should check to see what we need to do to make things right.  We tried to relate it to things that might happen now in their everyday lives...  Accidentally stepping on a toe, or bumping into someone.  We can stop and say, "Are you okay?"  We can ask if there is anything we should do.

We talked with the kids about the accident that I saw.  We pondered about why someone might have kept on driving.  Maybe they were afraid of getting into trouble.  Maybe they were afraid that someone would be angry with them.  Then I said, "You know, when you get older and you are driving a car... you might accidentally crash into someone.  You might be afraid of getting into trouble.  You might be afraid of the consequences, but it is really important to take responsibility for the mistakes we make.  Mama and Papa want to help you.  We won't always shield you from the consequences, but we will be with you to help you figure out what to do."

It was a good talk.  It was a good reminder to me of all the ways I want to establish good alignment with my kids while they are young.  We are with you.  Life is full of lots of big lessons to learn.  Lets do this together.  It doesn't have to be scary.  You don't have to run.

This morning I stopped by Goodwill.  I had my youngest child with me.  I usually have to remind him several times to use his eyes to look at things.  He was examining a ceramic soap dish that looked like a skateboard. He tested it to see if it would roll down the aisle.  It did not.  The attempt to do so, had unfortunate results for the soap dish.  He picked up the two pieces and looked at me with his bottom lip puckered out.

"Uh-oh," I said.  "That's why we try to just use our eyes.  Let's take the pieces and we can go and apologize.  Can you say, "I'm sorry that I broke the soap dish?"  He shook his head.  "You say that Mama.  I will stand BEHIND you."  He looked terrified.  I could tell that this was too much for him.

"Okay," I agreed. "Let's do this together."  We walked together to the front of the store.  We put the things we were going to purchase on the counter and then I took out the broken pieces.  I looked at my kiddo and I presented the cashier with the 2 piece soap dish.  "We had a little accident," I explained.  "We accidentally broke this soap dish.  We wanted to say that we are sorry."  She was very gracious and nodded.  "Oh that happens all the time.  Sometimes I break things too.  Let's just throw it away."  She was very kind.

I realize that the consequences of breaking a goodwill soap dish will be different than the consequences of crashing into the back of a parked vehicle.  But let's start with the small things.

I'm realizing as I walk through this journey of parenting that there has to be a balance of allowing my kids to experience the natural consequences of their actions and modeling grace to them.

The truth is, we all make mistakes and there are times that the consequences of our own mistakes are too much for all of us.  But "God in his gracious kindness declares us not guilty.  He has done this through Christ Jesus, who has freed us by taking away our sins." (Romans 3:24 NLT)

I am reminded of one of my favorite old Rich Mullins songs.

If I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through, and if  I can't let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you, and if I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs  and if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home.   ("If I Stand" by Rich Mullins)

Lets add to this and say, If we run let us run to the foot of the cross.  There is grace and there is mercy enough for all of our mistakes and all of our short comings.  

Thoughts about progress

"Hey!  I did it all by myself!!!!"  I love it when my people start doing things all by themselves.  Getting dressed, for example, even if it means that they are wearing striped leggings with a printed skirt and non-matching shirt/sweater combo.  Trying new foods, new accomplishments at the playground, dry nighttime pull-ups.  We are making progress. 

Progress is a funny word.  Progress implies moving forward.  We think of it as a good thing.  Unless we are talking about a disease.  The disease progressing is not good.  A few months ago I went with my dad to a doctor's appointment.  She described his disease as being on a train that is going a certain direction.  In the medical realm there is no way to turn the train around or to make it go in reverse.  "The best we can do is to try to slow the train down."  Progress here has a totally different meaning.

Last summer my dad struggled a lot with feeling dizzy.  His blood pressure would drop way down and sometimes he suddenly would need to stop and hold on to something, or sit down.  Then, one day in September my parents went out to breakfast and my dad momentarily passed out.  Unfortunately for him, when this happened he had been standing up.  Down he went.  It was a little bit scary for all involved, but my dad quickly recovered and they were able to leave the restaurant and my mom took him into the doctor for an evaluation.  It wasn't immediately clear to them why my dad's blood pressure was dropping but they gave him some tips to try to manage it, and they advised us to have chairs available all over the place so that he could sit down in short order if he needed.

Well, it turns out that if you fall over somewhere and there isn't an immediate explanation as to why you are falling down, the state thinks its probably not a good idea for you to drive. (For the record, I concur with this government regulation.)  So not long after this episode my dad was officially asked to turn in his license.  No more driving for Grandpa.

Not long after this, my dad had an appointment with a new neurologist.  The doctor listened to his symptoms, and looked at his medication list.  He advised my dad to wean himself off of one of the medications and see how he did.  Within a couple days of being off the medication, he stopped having dizzy spells.  He started being able to ride his bike for longer stretches.  Overall, he felt a lot better.

Okay, now I want to take a moment to talk about "progress" in terms of medicine.  I have 2 people in my very close circle that are in the medical field.  Both of them have spent years and years studying how the body works, and then reading really super boring journal articles and studies that have been done with different pharmaceuticals to see how effective they are at treating different diseases.  They look at foods, vitamins and minerals and try to understand and see patterns with things that seem to help our bodies fight disease.  But our bodies are really complicated and people with seemingly similar symptoms don't always respond in the same way to the same treatments.

I have cringed listening to people talk condescendingly about their healthcare provider not being able to figure out what is wrong with them.  I just would like to take this moment to point out that these people have put A TON of time and effort and emotional wherewithal into trying to understand the human body and how to aid in fighting off disease.  They deserve some respect for that.  I have witnessed first hand people who read the medical journals in their free time, and spend family dinners talking about things that would make many of you want to either cry or throw up.  (I have almost done both of these on more than one occasion.) Despite all of their efforts, THEY STILL AREN'T GOD, and it's quite unreasonable for us to have that expectation... of anyone for that matter.

In short, it became clear that the medication that my dad was taking was the cause of his dizzy spells, and that he did better not taking it.  There are some people who might benefit from this particular medication, and we don't begrudge the doctor who originally prescribed it.

So, now that I have that out of the way, lets go back to talking about my dad.  After he had resumed feeling generally awesome for quite some time, he started making a case for having his license back.  Some of us weren't so sure about that idea, but it wasn't really up to us to decide.  There were really a lot of hoops to jump through if that is what he wanted. But Grandpa was pretty determined.   He had to get a doctor to sign a paper saying that he was medically cleared to be re-evaluated.  He got that letter.  Then he had to submit it to the DMV and request an appointment to take the driving test.   While he waited, my dad found a YouTube video called, "How to pass the driving test."  He probably watched it a hundred times.  He had two last minute conflicts and had to reschedule that appointment TWICE.  But his day came.  A couple of weeks ago he took the driving test.

And HE PASSED!!!  After a little more than 6 months with no licence, Grandpa is a licensed driver again.  We celebrated.  I think that in a small way we felt like the train that doesn't go backwards, went backwards anyway and it felt like progress.

the beauty of counting to eleventeen

A couple months ago as I was preparing dinner I listened to the kids playing.  I could hear enough snippits of their interactions to know that they were playing hide-and-go-seek.  The game had been going along for a while when someone decided that my youngest should have a turn to count. He is always happy to have a turn.  Unfortunately for him, he's not super skilled in the counting department. I listened.  He counted.  "1. 2.  3.  Here I come."  It actually took him less than 2 seconds to get that out and he went running down the hall.  I could not hear the interaction that followed, but he was sent back.  I heard him count again.  "1. 2. 3. ...5...8. 9. 10."  And off he went again.  This time I could hear some frustrated voices.  "You aren't counting long enough!!!"  So he tried again a third time.  "1......2......3.....5.......9.....10...(Now insert very long pause.  He is smart.)  
ELEVENTEEN!!!!"  And he went running with gusto down the hall to find his sisters. 
Nobody argued with the kid who counted to eleventeen.

My school aged kiddos go to a school that has a diverse population.  This year there are 2 different moms that I would love to chat with, but they don't speak English and I am not very confident in my Spanish speaking abilities.  I would smile and say "hello" and they would shyly smile back but that was as far as our communication went.  Until a few weeks ago.  I gathered up some of my courage and I initiated a conversation in Spanish.  We talked non stop for the few minutes that remained before school let out.  I am certain that I made numerous grammatical errors.  I probably said something like "eleventeen".  But guess what?  I don't think she cared. 

I went home and I thought about this other mom and how often she has to gather up her courage to do her best with a language she can't speak very well.  All the embarrassment of knowing that you are making mistakes and wondering if you are really being understood.  Suddenly I realized that I had this little window of opportunity to absorb that for her.  I could be the one to bumble around in a language I don't speak well.  I could be the one to make all the mistakes, and allow her to nod reassuringly and offer the words that I was searching for.  What if my willingness to be weak was a blessing to her?  What if it was empowering?

As the fall was coming to an end, our family took advantage of a few extra days off for conferences and we went to the beach.  As we were gathering up all our stuff to go, my dad offered to start loading the luggage in the van.  I thanked him but declined.  I explained to him that I wanted to quickly vacuum out the van before we left.  A few minutes later I was aware that my dad was getting out the vacuum and preparing to vacuum the car. 

So kind.  But I cringed.

The far back seat of the van regularly has enough crumbs to sustain our whole family for an entire meal or two. I always intend to get back there, and "follow up" on what my kids believe to be a sufficient clean up job, but I rarely make it to the third back seat.  To say that the van needed to be vacuumed was a severe understatement.  Anyone who has ever known anything about my dad knows that he is a very strong Type A personality.  Growing up, room inspection was serious business.  I watched him vacuum my van and I was tempted to go back to my childhood days of "room inspection."  I was not passing inspection.  My van was a disaster.

My dad kindly and patiently vacuumed the van as we gathered the rest of our stuff.  He then helped us to load up the van.  He didn't say anything about our crumbs or the mess.  He smiled and told us to have fun.  I thanked him for his help and we headed off.

As we drove to the beach I thought about my feelings about my dad vacuuming the van.  One thing that I have come to appreciate is that even though there are things that my dad can't do anymore, he is very eager to do anything that he can.  Maybe my willingness to be weak, or in this case, my willingness to accept help is a blessing to him. 

What if I limited my own interactions to the places I feel comfortable?  What if I only did the things that I know I do well?  What if I never allowed myself to need help from the people around me?

Friends I think that this is where grace is rich.  Grace is rich in the places that lie just beyond the edge of our own capabilities.  When I can say, "This isn't something I've mastered.  I need help." we put ourselves in a place to receive grace.  I saw it in the eyes of another mother, encouraging me with thankful eyes.  Her nods and her broad smile spoke grace to me.  I saw it in the hands of my father, reaching the vacuum into the far back seat of our van, using his type A skills to get every measurable crumb into its proper place.  It's not room inspection anymore.  Just grace.  I can rest in that.

Romans 12:16 "Live in harmony with each other.  Don't try to act important, but enjoy the company of ordinary people, and don't think you know it all!"  (New Living)

So I have a new resolve.  I want to live more of my life on the edge of my own strength and allow myself to be empowered by His strength.  I want to reach beyond my own capabilities even if it means counting to eleventeen.  I want to be willing to not be perfect and admit the places that I need help and accept it.  And I resolve to eagerly extend grace as well.  To offer help where I see that it is needed.  To acknowledge the effort that it takes to walk outside of our comfort zone and use encouraging eyes. 

I want to walk in places of rich grace.

The banner we stand under: "dearly loved"

Hello dear friends!  The holidays are over.  We celebrated well with family and friends and now we are getting settled back into the routine of school and life.  I realized as we celebrated that this is one of the first years for quite a while that we haven't spent at least some time in the little city where I grew up. In years past we have traveled up to spend Christmas with my parents, and now they are already here!  Yay!!!  But then I realized that I really missed all the little moments of seeing lots of other people from our church there.  I tasted just a little of what has been hard for my parents. We had a lovely Christmas but I think that we all tasted a little bit of the loss in the midst of the festivities.
We are all making new friends in our new environment.  We love our neighbors and we are thankful to be here.  But the richness of life that comes with 36 years of friendships isn't replaced in 8 months.

I have learned one of the key components to harmonious community living is being able to identify and respect the things that are important to each other.  Fortunately for us most of the areas of what could be tension have been easily remedied.  For example, we keep 2 different kinds of coffee in the house.  We also have a coffee pot AND a pour over system.   Everyone might have an opinion on the best way to do certain things and we all have preferences but we are all pretty flexible and it works out well most of the time.

Sometimes it doesn't.  I probably don't really need to elaborate more than that.  Sometimes it is hard to be flexible and sometimes we aren't considerate of what is really important to the other people.*  There are 7 people who live in this house and more than half of us are "First Born Children". We may or may not have really strong opinions about THE RIGHT way to do things and sometimes I have found myself being really stubborn about a ridiculously insignificant detail.

So with that as the back drop I will share with you my favorite Christmas gift.  I had a plain canvas and I painted it black.  Then I painted in white the words "dearly loved" on the canvas.  It wasn't perfect but I was pleased with the outcome and it seemed appropriate that my best wasn't perfect.  I am not perfect at loving people.  I gave my imperfect painting to my parents for Christmas. 

Scott Krippayne wrote a song called "What if". 
... Love will erase the fear...
What if you lived like you were loved? 
 What if you did all the things your heart's dreaming of?
What if you sang your song at the top of your lungs?
What if you lived like you were loved?

It's thought provoking.  Do I really live like I believe that I'm loved?  Can I walk forward in confidence, knowing that it's okay if I fall on my face because the love of the Only One who really matters is unshakable. 

This was my favorite Christmas gift.  The reminder that we are Dearly Loved.  This is the banner that we stand under.  Love is a gift.  A gift that God gave first.  We give love and we receive love because HE first loved us.  So freely.

We live in house where people have different "right" ways to brew coffee and we have different opinions about other things too that are still too sensitive to write about and might never be funny to some of us. We have different priorities and different ideas about what is important in the moment.*  But we stand under the banner of "DEARLY LOVED" and at the end of the day that is what matters. 



*In the midst of writing this I was able to assist in building a Star Wars Lego Star Ship with space for 2 bad guys. This was an important priority for someone who I love.  :)