The M&M Story

Piggy eating Tiger Originally uploaded by smaynor . A couple of weeks ago, Briggs decided to draw Piggy, so he put Piggy on his drawing board and traced around it. I think--I say I think because I was not actually watching this--Max then added the nose and teeth. He then drew Tiger in Piggy's stomach. They called me over, and with great pride in their work, announced that Piggy was eating Tiger. They proceeded to point out all that was happening in the piece of art, and I did everything to keep from laughing, or maybe crying, I'm not sure. They felt this was a perfectly normal happening in the life of Tiger and PIggy. Boys certainly have an interesting take on things.

Max asked me today if Herod went to Heaven. After the correct theological response, which included why Daddy is in Heaven with Jesus, Max then asked, "Is Daddy everywhere the way God is?" I'm continually amazed at his thoughtfulness.

B's new favorite word is "cool." If he likes something, most often a picture or a toy or something concrete, he'll say, "cool, Mommy." By the time he hits high school, that word will be back in style.

I've lived in St. Louis on and off for many years. I've perspired in the heat of summer, and I've bundled up in the dead of winter, but I've never lost power for an entire week. And the funny thing is I've now done it twice in six months. Crazy. I'm actually rather addicted to electricity - the hum of a fan, the beat of a song, the ding of a microwave. There always seems to be a buzz of sorts when the lights are on, almost a feeling of constant companionship. But when they are off, it gets insanely quiet. Almost too quiet. And suddenly you feel alone. Or should I say, I feel alone. As I've experienced this quietness, I've thought about how much we need electricity. We need it so desperately, all the time, to give us most of what we need in a day - light to read, food to eat, hot water to bathe, and heat to keep warm. But we take it for granted. We forget how much we rely on it because it is always there, giving to us. And so when it disappea

M. asked me today if we get a new name in Heaven. He requested that he get to keep his.

Yesterday, my mom came over to watch my children for an hour so that I could QUICKLY run to Trader Joe's for Thanksgiving supplies. M and B are great at the store, but it does take us twice as long. As I arrived home, I saw two men mowing my lawn. And then one more showed up. I did everything not to burst into tears as I saw these men serve their God and their sister on this crazy week of Thanksgiving. M immediately found his "lawn mower" and went up on our back hill and ran from side to side as our friend mowed the back. I loved how big he wanted to be, how helpful he wanted to be, and how hard he wanted to work. And I was overwhelmed by the blessing of these men. But, really, as I write this, so much of this was watching the Spirit move in His people, including me. The last couple of months, my lawn has been somewhat a challenge for me. I would do what I could and then pray how to solve the challenge. But over the last couple of weeks, I've seen God work

A whole year has passed since I said good-bye to Brian and so much has happened. Volumes. It has been a year full of grace and mercy, of brokenness and forgiveness, of sorrow and delight, of pain and healing. I never thought I would be where I am at this moment, breathing easier than I have in months, knowing that my God is good and perfect and everfaithful. I've thought of Brian so much over these last days, remembering his gentle ways, his quiet humor, and his sweet spirit. He taught me so much about love and patience and kindness and goodness. He taught me about perseverance and loyalty. He made sure I didn't take myself too seriously. He listened and loved. A couple of weeks ago, I got a flat tire. I don't know anything about flat tires. I've had them before, but I would always call my brother, my dad, or my husband. Well, my brother lives in California and my dad and my husband live in Heaven, so none of those men was an option. And, really, I've

PB015090 Originally uploaded by smaynor . As Briggs was reading, his precious piggies listened intently.

Reading in bed Originally uploaded by smaynor . Our typical night routine includes reading books on my bed amidst pillows, blankets, and piggies. The other night I told the boys to go pick out their books, and we'd meet in my room in a few minutes. As I walked in, this beautiful picture greeted my eyes.

Spiderman and Piglet Originally uploaded by smaynor . My children have never been trick-or-treating before this year. A friend called and invited us to their neighborhood so we decided to try it out. Max, my somewhat obedient one, was gracious and kind as any four year old can be. If the people said take two, he took two. If they said take four, he would take four. He offered jokes when asked, mostly making up his own knock, knock ones. Briggs, on the other hand, was a different story. He quickly figured out the secret to getting the most candy. When several kids are crowded around the bowl and the person says take two, you take two, and then you slide your hand up again and grab a bunch more. I had to closely monitor my little pig. As we turned to walk off the front porch, Briggs would say, "next house? next house?"

Today a friend told me her daughter moved back to town. And during the course of the conversation, she said something that has stuck with me all day. She mentioned how her daughter's church was so close and "if ______ broke fingernail, they would pray with her." And I thought of how crazy my life is and how I tell people I will pray for them and then as I fall into bed after an exhausting day of marble tracks and soccer and carpool and diapers, I realize how little I had prayed for them that day and now it is late and I'm tired and focus is hard. During Brian's illness I had the privilege of experiencing the verse "pray continually." And funny thing is, it works. No, not all our prayers were answered the way we wanted, but they were heard and they were answered, by the Creator of the universe. I see why God wants us to trust Him with our life, because I know He doesn't get distracted like I do.

Conversation on the way to school: Carsyn: I'm going to be a Rescue Hero when I grow up. Max: I'm going to be a daddy then a Rescue Hero when I grow up. Carsyn: I'm going to be a mommy, too, but first I'm going to be a Rescue Hero. Max: I'm going to be a daddy first, then a Rescue Hero. Hey, will you be my wife? Carysn: (with an incredulous look) Umm, no. Max: Okay. Well, I'm still going to be a daddy and a Rescue Hero. Carysn: I'm going to be a Rescue Hero, too. The other day Max and I were discussing marriage, or at least why mommys and daddys get married, and I explained that a person marries their best friend, besides Jesus. He responded with, "Well, I will ask Carsyn to marry me." It certainly makes sense to him.

color adjusted photo Originally uploaded by smaynor . These children are beautiful. And smart and sassy and creative and energetic and amazing.

Making apple pie at school Originally uploaded by smaynor . I spent Tuesday morning shooting video and taking pictures for Max's class as they made apple pie for part of their apple unit. It was great to meet kids that I haven't and see the class in action. I also enjoyed seeing Max outside the safety and comfort of our family. His two best friends are in the class, and they are thick as thieves. They have such loyalty for one another, making sure the others have a seat or a swing or a snack. I also noticed that my son is a little like his father. Now Brian was an exceptional man - loving, kind, generous, wise -but he was also quite lazy. He LOVED reading his New Yorker all morning rather than work on house projects. Not that I would qualify reading all morning as lazy, but he just enjoyed sitting reading, thinking, or resting far more than tasks. On Tuesday, I saw a little bit of that in Max. At first, the apple pie was a novel idea. But soon, his eyes wandered over to the bl

color adjusted photo Originally uploaded by Maynor . This was the grand attempt to get four children, all under the age of 5, to take a picture.

Relaxing after a hard day's work Originally uploaded by Maynor . I love this child so much. He makes me laugh all the time. After he had worked so hard to find the apple he wanted, he settled down and leaned against my backpack and began munching. Imagine this picture in 16 years. Yes, he'll be a freshman in college, maybe doing the exact same thing, but instead with long hair and glasses.

We have an issue of sticky hands at our house, most specifically with my youngest son. On any given day, he will ask me to wipe his hands of whatever sticky substance has come his way (i.e., syrup, lollipop, popsicle). Now, the issue is not the sticky hands, but the drama that goes along with it. B., being a rather verbal child, will tell me over and over again that his hands are sticky really up until the moment I have wiped his hands clean. And since he thinks he can't really move ahead with his life until his hands are clean, I usually have to drop whatever I'm doing to immediately meet his need. A few mornings ago, I made waffles for breakfast. To backtrack a little, we had slept in a bit (7:00), so breakfast was of the upmost concern the moment everyone rolled out of bed. I, being the sacrificial mother I am, made the waffles BEFORE I had made my coffee. Well, actually, I had started the water boiling for the coffee, but that doesn't really count because it was still g

Originally uploaded by Maynor . B. had his first day of school this past week. First of all, he was absolutely thrilled that he got his own backpack. Over the past few weeks, every time the word school was mentioned in our home, I would hear B. say, "Bap pack? Bap pack?" And, of course, he would run to find it and show me how it worked. B. is such a doll, so full of passion and emotion. He reminds me so much of Brian, in the way he looks up and smiles, or the way he nods when I ask him if he's okay. And I think he's even got his father's fashion sense. The kid has opinions on what he wears! Oh, my boys are growing and changing, and I feel so blessed to have them.

Tonight M. asked me to pray to God for him. His request? "Mommy, will you please ask God to make me a saver when I grow up?" Now, a saver in our house is basically a superhero. M. and B. both love Spiderman and the Rescue Heroes and Dash Incredible. (In fact, almost daily M. shows me he runs just as fast as Dash.) When M. crawled into bed a few minutes later, he begged that I stay. His excuse? "Mommy, I get scared by my dreams." Oh, boy. Apparently, he recently dreamed that Spiderman took away his candy, and he didn't really like thinking about Spiderman taking something away from him. I asked him why Spiderman did that, and M. replied, "Well, it wasn't my candy. I took it from someone else." Hmmm, interesting twist. He and I then discussed the point that Spiderman really was a saver because he rescued the candy for the other person, and wouldn't M. want Spiderman to do that? I'm not sure M. followed all my logic (who really does?), but he

cute max Originally uploaded by Maynor . M. attended a Cards game last week with good friends. We couldn't find his hat, so we borrowed his brother's. Oh, what drama we had! Briggs reeeaaally wanted to wear his hat (he hasn't worn it in weeks), and finally I heard M. say, "B. I need to wear your hat because I'm going to a Cards game. I can't wear my hat because it isn't the Cardinals. Do you want to wear my hat, and I'll wear your hat?" That actually worked.

Tonight at dinner M. informed me he was finished with dinner. I asked him to take three more bites of his apple and then he could be finished. He replied, "I already had three bites. If I have three more, that will be six bites." And he didn't even use his fingers to count.

A year ago we were hopeful that God would answer our prayers exactly the way we wanted. Or should I say, I was hopeful He would do what I say. How humbling to be reminded who is God! So it got rough, and Brian didn't get better. And now I must go through my first autumn without him. Eight years ago, Brian and I began dating in September, fell in love in October, and made plans for our future together in November. And last year I held his hand as he sat in a hospital bed in September, pushed his wheelchair and drove him to chemo in October, and said good-bye as he went to glory in November. Please pray for me this season. And encourage me and remember me as I trudge through a time that will bring inexplicable sorrow. Pray for Brian's family--his parents, his brothers--as they continue in their journey of grief. Pray for my children, as they continue to accept and make sense of their reality. Max tells me daily that he misses his Daddy. And sometimes he's mad and sometimes he

Baby "ththth" Originally uploaded by Maynor . Last summer, after much discussion and deliberation with Brian, we finally figured out that B had a special name for his pigs--"Ththth." Well, this summer, after I returned from California in June, I was surprised to hear that "ththth" had become "Gee." Now, you need to know that we are super original in our family when it comes to naming our special stuffed animals. When M was little and had attached himself to his tiger, Brian immediately named the little ball of material, Tiger. And when B attached himself to his little pig, it was obvious the little tyke was to be named Piggy. Now M called Tiger "Dido" for quite awhile until one day he became Tiger. Oh, what a sad day that was! It looks as though I must grieve again.

Yesterday M started swim lessons. He is not particularly fond of getting his head or face wet, but he did a super job practicing his kicks and walking along the wall. Later in the afternoon, we met Nana, Aunt Mimi, and the cousins at the pool and played for over an hour, jumping into the water and running through the sprinklers. Last night it was quiet in my house by 7:30 p.m. This morning nobody stirred until about 7:45 a.m. I heard B calling, "Mommy! Mommy!" I rolled out of bed to get him before he woke up M, and then proceeded to feed him breakfast, play with him, and drink a whole cup of coffee before I went in to see if M was still breathing. At 8:30, I tiptoed in, noticed his eyes were opened, but saw him slam them shut and pretend to be asleep (a first of many, I'm sure.) I let him "sleep" a few more minutes, and then went in again only to be greeted with the same scenerio. I asked if he wanted to get up and have breakfast for which he replied, "No,

Originally uploaded by Maynor . We just got back from an amazing trip to Colorado. It's such a serious blessing to be with family friends. Check out Max's pose.

Oh, what a week we've had. Today, after six days of no power on Crockett Drive, we finally moved back into our house. It seems as though we have the distinct privilege of trials in this life. I have directed countless shows in my lifetime, but never have I not been able to pull off a final performance. Until now. The Lord had other plans, and the big storm that knocked out over 125,000 last Friday included Westminster Christian Academy. And with that went the final performance scheduled for that night. We were scheduled to leave the next morning for Wheaton, and that we did. What a great blessing it was to see old friends and to see such great improvements to a fine institution. I walked through the new Beamer Center, admired the new Stupe, the stunning CPO and the snazzy Student Activities office. I also had a moment of grief, realizing the old MSC would never hear the voices of young adults discovering themselves. Well, maybe it was more like I wouldn't get to revis

Yesterday afternoon, we had the grand task of cleaning the house. Well, it was more like move-all-the-stuff-into-one-room-so-it-looks-neat cleaning. I asked Max and Briggs to go downstairs and pick up their toys because we had friends coming over later, and the basement was littered with train tracks, costumes, and blocks. I got them started and then headed upstairs to move all the laundry baskets into one room. A few minutes later, Briggs came upstairs, starving. When Briggs is hungry, it is best to feed him. I assumed the basement was still in need of cleaning, but I thought a quick snack would give him energy and then I would head down and help them. It really was quite messy. So I got Briggs situated with a snack, but as I stood in the kitchen, I heard interesting noises coming from the basement. It was either more toys being thrown about, or Max was really, truly picking up all the toys. I waited. The sound continued. A couple minutes later, Max came upstairs holding two objects.

Brian was asked to speak at Westminster's graduation. Here's the hard copy: I’d like to thank you, graduates, Mr. Marsh, for the honor of standing here this evening. It means a lot to me to be able to stand here, and as I reflect back on my six years here at Westminster—the same number of years as most of you—I see a history of love and respect and joy and graciousness that only comes from God. And I thank you for being his liaisons to me and to Susan…and to baby Max. I played junior high basketball in a very small school in a very small town in Alabama—We were the Warrior Academy Braves, and we ….stunk.---now this was a team where our best defensive move was making armpit noises during fast breaks to try to distract the opposing team…We wore the jerseys left over from the Varsity –they were so baggy on us that when you subbed in you and to pull your shirt up out of your shorts so that the officials could read the number. And yet we had this kid Pete, who was just astounding

Recently, M. and I were at Westminster picking up some things. We parked in back, and as we walked by a handicap parking sign, he said, "Mommy, remember when Daddy had one of those?" It took me a second, but realized he was talking about the wheelchair in the handicap symbol. I responded, "Yes, baby, I remember. Do you remember when Uncle Andy pushed Daddy in the wheelchair when we went on that long prayer walk with all our friends?" He nodded as though he remembered but quickly got distracted by a worm. I thought that was it, but a minute later as we climbed the back steps of WCA, he asked, "Mommy, did Daddy die in a hospital?" I choked back the lump in my throat and said, "Yes, actually in an emergency room," which he's been in before for stitches and nursemaid's elbow. "So, he died in an 'mergency room?" I could hear the wheels spinning like mad. "Yes, M, and then he went to heaven to be with Jesus."

Below is a column that Brian wrote several years ago. He submitted it to the Post after his success with the marriage article, but it was not published. I found it the other day and thought you loyal readers would enjoy it. Tree Hunting Column By Brian Maynor Last modified, December 10, 2000 Last week, my family went Christmas tree hunting. My family that day included my wife Susan, my youngest brother (sporting a winter goatee he’s been working on for a couple weeks), my sister-in-law and me. We all piled into a Ford Explorer and headed out to the Missouri countryside. A variety of traditions were represented in the SUV that morning. My brother and I grew up with fake trees—our first Christmas tree our parents bought at Sears and Roebuck. It was the kind with plastic sheaths that slipped down over a metal pole and hard plastic branches that plugged into the sheaths. Three hours, seven cups of coffee and two domestic dispute calls later, it was assembled. One New Year’s Day, in the int

Today I bought a minivan. The Jetta was becoming more and more unreliable, even a little scary to drive, and it didn't fit more than two kids comfortably. As schooling approaches like a tidal wave (they grow SO fast), it was time to upgrade to something larger as I begin the routine of carpooling and soccer games. Brian and I had planned to get something bigger this spring/summer, so it seemed somewhat normal to do this, but not really. It felt HUGE to not have him by my side, for us to do our normal deliberation for hours over the right color, the right style, the right whatever. (We creative types have a tendency to be seriously high maintenance.) But in all honesty, it doesn't feel right to go back to who I was before Brian went home. I found myself feeling safe in God's arms as I prayed for the right vehicle to become available. Peter and Melanie joined me in the search and proved to be my dear sister and brother. Yes, we all teared up thinking of Brian drivin

I asked M today what he wanted to be when he grew up. Expecting "fireman" or "policeman" or "soccer player," he replied, "We'll see whatever God makes me." Later in the day, he decided that being a fireman was what God wanted to make him.

M and B love Spiderman. I'm sure it was Jake's influence. But a friend from Los Angeles sent us a care package full of Spidey stuff, and we now own the dvd's of the original series. Boy, does that bring back memories of Saturday morning cartoons! Well, they ask for it EVERY day, but we tend to save it for special occasions. Whenever that time comes, B goes running through the house yelling, "Myman! Myman! Myman!"

On the top bunk Originally uploaded by Maynor . M and I went to Camp Barnabas last weekend for a Camp Soaring Hawk reunion/work crew with many old friends. M had a ball! He held a crawfish, fed the horses, sang songs, and slept on the top bunk - well, for 1/2 a night. He was so excited to be on the top. We set up his sleeping bag, got his pillow/Rams blanket/Tiger all situated, and made sure his water was in reaching distance--just like home. About halfway through the night, he woke up a little scared and wanted to come sleep with me, which he did but that was the end of my night's sleep. The next evening we got him all set up on the bottom bunk, and he was snug as a bug all night long!

Max put on his "old" football shirt and shorts today. I told him he looked snazzy. "Oh, you're just saying that," and he blushed down the hall.

Yesterday we returned home from a quick trip to the park only to discover a mosaic of glass on our sliding glass door. I'm not sure what happened--this was no bird--but a golf ball, a rock, a baseball, a whatever ball smashed into our glass, giving it quite the look. Of course I felt my stomach in my throat because I suddenly saw thousands of pieces of glass spread all over the patio and two little boys without their shoes. All I could think about was calling Brian and crying to him in panic as he sat in his cubicle at work, patiently listening and forever loving. But I didn't have that option. Instead, I took a deep breath and called my brother in LA. What I needed was help processing and that he did. Sure, this was a problem, but a solvable problem. And there were friends to call who would guide me in the right direction. So I called the two people who I knew could help me, and the ball began to roll. A year ago I would have kept panicking, for at least a few more hours.

Cousins Originally uploaded by Maynor . On the beautiful Easter morning of 2006, I accompanied the Peter Maynor family to the Jewel Box in Forest Park. It has become a tradition to take Easter pictures of the cousins at this location, which is exceptionally stunning this time of year. We found what may have been an entrance to something at the World's Fair, a curved wall with pillars and a gate, and started taking pictures. Uncle Peter began doing cartwheels and other crazy stunts while the three bigger cousins watched. Then we heard their beautiful, organic laughs.

This past month I have faced two birthdays, a one year anniversary, and Easter. My emotions have ridden a roller coaster, and I have wanted to run away again and again because this whole thing really, really hurts. Ten years ago last month, God took my dad home, and I really loved my dad. He was funny and loving and creative and interesting, and I always felt safe with him. Five months ago, God took my husband home, and I really loved my Brian. He was funny and loving and creative and interesting, and I always felt safe with him. And I know God is more loving and more creative and more interesting than either Brian or my dad could ever be. And safety? Where else would I want to be but in the arms of my Savior? But sometimes it's hard to know that or even to feel His arms around me. It's that whole "kinesthetic learner" problem I have. These past few weeks, I have realized how hard it is to be a single person...again--no one to fix my coffee in the morning, no one

It's interesting what you can accomplish when you are the only one who has the ability to do it. I recently realized how lazy I had become being married to Brian. I would find all these things that I couldn't do (more like things I didn't want to do) and give them to Brian as his "jobs"--emptying the dishwasher, taking out the trash, paying the bills, organizing our yard, mowing our grass, dealing with unpleasant people. Now that he isn't around, it looks like until I teach Max and Briggs the finer points of emptying a dishwasher, it's all me. So these past couple of weeks, I've attacked the yard. Because Brian was the gardener in the family and knew most everything (from all the articles he would read), I quickly realized I needed to educate myself. Instead of sipping ice tea and hoping the little elves would show up to make my flower beds beautiful, I read about annuals, perennials, mulch, compost, seeds, and garden design. I went to Home Depot, with

Briggs 3 Originally uploaded by Maynor . It took me several months, but I finally figured out how to load pictures on flickr and put pics on the blog. Brian hoarded the whole flickr/blog thing when he was around and did not give me a tutorial before he went home. I think he wanted me to believe it was impossible so that he would look smart and cool. I finally buckled down and faced the inevitable--technology without Brian--and realized it wasn't TOO difficult. Of course, Eric Costello, Flickr Creator Extraordinaire, did receive a couple e-mails from me. Anyway, this picture is one of my favorites. While in LA, we went to this great children's museum, all outside, of course, and Briggs got in this quiet mood, standing next to a wall. I started snapping pictures, and he stayed focused on what, I'm not sure, but never looked at me or broke his concentration. I think he's kind of beautiful.

Today M. asked me, "Mommy, do you love me when I get dressed myself, like I did this morning?" "Buddy, I love you ALL the time. I love you when you get dressed; I love you when you play with your toys; I love you when you play outside. I even love you when you get in trouble for hitting Briggs. I love you always and forever, no matter what." Max thoughtfully absorbed my response, took a minute and then piped up, "Mommy, I love you when you spank me and I love you when you tell me my time out is over. Mommy, I love you when you play with me and fix me something to drink. I love you when you help me pick up my toys." And we went back and forth with lots of "I love you when's," and I couldn't stop hugging and kissing my son all morning.

As I approach this first anniversary of Brian's diagnosis, I am amazed at what a year can be. I used to think at some point life would slow down a little; we would be able to take a deep breath and relax. Our first year of marriage, Brian and I directed two shows, started a new job, and rehabbed a kitchen. The next year I started grad school, and subsequent years brought babies, another new job, another new house, another rehab and then cancer. I guess for the Maynors, we will breath and relax in heaven, because it doesn't seem to slow down much on this earth.

Briggs is certainly coming into his own. Yesterday morning we stayed home from church because of dripping noses and hacking coughs. We were all on the floor playing with Rescue Heroes and puzzles when I noticed a strong smell coming from one of my children. "Okay, I smell poop. Which one of you has poop?" Briggs is still in diapers. Max does use the bathroom, but sometimes has trouble making it there in time, so it really was up for grabs. Briggs looked right at me and said, "Axies!" which is his pronunciation for Max and then continued with his playing. Max responded with, "No, Briggs. I don't have poop. You do," and giggled under his breath. I did everything not to laugh and, of course, I wanted to make sure I heard correctly, so I asked again. Same answer! Then a pause. And then a "Me, poop." Even at almost two, he's got it all figured out.

The other day we were outside (it was 77 degrees), and Max announced he had to use the bathroom. "Mommy, can I go pee in the grass?" he asked as he danced around holding a rake. "No, baby, you need to go inside and use the bathroom." "But before Daddy went to heaven, he said I could go pee in the grass." And how should I answer that?

I have a friend named Julie, and she's beautiful and funny and sassy, and I really like her. And I have learned that those who have suffered, get it and walk alongside you without having to ask or say a word. They just do it. Music has been a great ministry during these past months, and Julie gave me a song the other day that for now has earned a repeat on my CD player. The words are written by Christa Wells but sung by Natalie Grant. Until a week ago, I had no idea who these two people were. I'm not a huge fan of Christian music, maybe because most of what I have is from 1995, but she's got a cool voice, raspy and organic, and sings with passion and conviction. The lyrics remind me I'm not alone and that the grand plan is so much more than I could even begin to fathom in my limited, temporal mind. Held Two months is too little they let him go. They had no sudden healing To think that providence Would take a child from his mother While she prays, is appalling. Who told

We just returned from a great trip to sunny Southern California. M and B went on "ventures" with their Uncle Stephen and Aunt Nealy, played with friends on the beach, and drank "special milk" almost everyday from Starbucks. M climbed his first tree with his buddy Liam, and B and his buddy Noah enjoyed dried mango while visiting the Farmer's Market. I was most particularly struck with how amazing communities are. I had the privilege of visiting with a college friend who has faced similar struggles with cancer in his family. What an amazing testimony of support and love from his family and friends. People stopped by with gifts and love and encouragement. My friend's mother was such an example of grace. Here we were, visiting at a challenging time for *her* family, and she sat on the floor and played with *my* children. Never drawing attention to herself, the house always seemed in order and the children were happy. I witnessed a true servant and was humbl

I know this is a bit serious, and I should be writing about the witty things my children say, but I wrote this a couple nights ago and wanted to share it. I hope it is encouraging to you. My suffering seems so easy compared to my Savior’s. I remember repeatedly picturing Jesus in a manger, with itchy hay, and smelly animals breathing next to his sweet, newborn face. And then I see him watching his best friend deny him and another one betray him and then hanging on a cross for me and for Brian and for my boys and for all of you, His children. He suffered the dishonor of being born in a stable, with smelly animals, rather than a palace filled with gold, because He is God and is the only one with the power to save. He suffered the misunderstanding of family and friends, rather than support and encouragement and the faithfulness of a hometown, because He is God and is the only one with the power to save. He suffered the betrayal of a best friend, rather than loyalty and truthfulness,

Today was Brian's birthday. This morning I told Max we would make a cake. He asked if we were going to take it to heaven and give it to Daddy. Later, he "called" Daddy on the phone. "Daddy, are you in heaven? What are you doing? Are you sitting in Jesus's lap?"