At the Old Ball Game...

I will be the first to admit that our children have had some pretty amazing experiences in their lives.  They have done things that most kids don't get to do.

Michaela has been to Mexico.  Granted, she was five months old and doesn't remember much about that trip.

All three of them have been to Lake Tahoe.  Michaela and Christian have skiied there, as well as ice skated and sledded.

Michaela and Christian have also been to Massanutten in Virginia, and skiied and snow-tubed there. 

Those two have been to New York, at Christmas even! 

They have vacationed for weeks at a time at the beach. 

They have spent time again and again in Williamsburg and been to the wonderful historical sites there and nearby.

All three got to visit our nation's capital, as well as some of the Smithsonian museums.

They have been to professional sporting events; they have cheered on the Orlando Magic as well as the Texas Rangers. 

All of these things would count as very out-of-the-ordinary, to me.  I didn't grow up with these kinds of experiences...and that's okay with me.  It would be okay with me if my kids didn't have these experiences either.  It's easy to worry that because they live this charmed life, doing amazing things all over the country, and even living in an out-of-the-ordinary neighborhood that they will become young adults who feel entitled to a life of leisure.  It will be our job as parents to help them navigate the worldy waters they swim through over these growing-up years.  The truth is that they have very generous grandparents who can offer them (and us) a lot of fun.  Fun times and fun stuff.  They also have a dad who happens to have a job in an area where we are afforded the opportunity to do some cool things.

But what is in their hearts is what matters the most.  I'm glad their memory banks will be filled to the brim with all of the wonderful things that they have gotten to do, and will get to do as they get older.  But what makes me even more glad is when they show that they understand there is more to life than the unusual and exciting adventures they are able to have. 

Last night Mike had the chance to take them to another Rangers' game.  This time he was given the tickets; they were good tickets too...the kind where you are able to put your feet on the dugout.  That is great enough, but it got even better!

(This was relayed to me...I didn't get to witness it first-hand.)

At one point during the game, after catching a strike-out pitch, the catcher rolled the ball up to the crowd (on top of the dugout), right where Christian and Michaela were sitting.  Christian ended up with that ball, and was as happy as a kangaroo on a trampoline.

At the end of the game, which they won, the pitcher was with the rest of the team, high-fiving everybody and celebrating the victory; he also rolled a ball up to the crowd, which Christian missed, but the guy next to him picked up.  He handed the ball to Michaela and told her,"Now you each have one!" 

During the game the kids had talked with a little boy who had just turned six; it was pretty obvious that he would have loved to get a ball.  Mike could tell that Michaela was thinking of giving her ball away and asked if she would like to; he told our kids they could share the ball that Christian had.  She gladly gave her ball to the little boy, which made his day.  He still thought it was his birthday - what a great gift!

At this point many people were starting to leave, but folks who had seats higher up were coming down to get a glimpse of the team and to try to get a ball.  A security guard who patrolled that particular area, down where the players were, came along and stood in front of where Christian and Michaela were and pointed at them.  He sent a ball up to Michaela, and then he said,"This one is for the boy in the blue shirt!"  He rolled a ball right up to Christian.  For some reason, he singled each of them out and made sure that they ended up with a ball (even though Christian still had his from before).

Now they had three balls and had given one away.  Mike saw a young guy next to Christian looking wistful...what pre-teen boy doesn't want a baseball from the dugout?!  He pointed the boy out to Christian, and wondered if he might like one of the balls.  Christian immediately said to the boy,"Here you go!"  The young man was surprised and delighted, and asked,"Are you sure?" as did the boy's dad.  They were assured it was fine.  Our kids still ended up with two balls!

Mike told me the story once they were in bed.  It warmed my heart.  Because of someone else's generosity to our family, my kids got to have an extraordinary experience with their favorite ball team.  But they also got to show generosity to others.  They were given a gift, and this gift they shared with another.  And almost as if in response they were given more! 

When I think of what happened at the game, it paints such a picture of grace.  We are given an extraordinary gift; what a beautiful thing when we share it with others, as it was so abundantly shared with us.  I have a lot to learn about grace...and here are my children teaching me a lesson in it.  I hope I will be a good student!

Not Just a One-Trick Pony

When I think of Mike's shoes, I usually think of boats, and how they take up so much space on our shoe racks (the shoes, not boats).  But I am pleasantly surprised to learn that they are useful in other ways than keeping Mike's foot protected and stylish when he is walking about outside.

I live to be enlightened.

Mundane With a Bit of Chocolate (Which is Never Mundane)

The days are passing by and life is going on and it's everyday stuff...school, dishes, laundry, grocery, cook, clean (or not), laundry, school, dishes, laundry, laundry, laundry. 

We are just doing our thing.  None of it is extremely exciting.  There are no amazing stories to tell.  No major incidents to share. 

Although, Christian loved what I made for dinner last night and he ate it again tonight as leftovers.  That is pretty newsworthy.

Also, I went jogging with Mike this afternoon.  That's right.  I went jogging.  And I did it with my husband.  (Still talking about jogging, you know.)  We didn't go far, but we did jog long enough that I got a red face and the skin on my knees was tingly. 

Oh!  Eliana went to Sunday School this morning, without a tear or a fuss.  That is actually a big deal.  And such a relief!  I hate leaving her in a place when she's screaming.  Although I have to say it was tempting to leave her in Target once when she was screaming...different contexts elicit different responses from me, I suppose.

The Rangers swept the Yankees this weekend!  That doesn't really have anything to do with us, particularly, but...we are the Walkers, and there is Walker, Texas Ranger, and our team is the Texas Rangers.  Sooo, in that way, the Walkers and the Rangers are tight!  Mike took the big kids to the Friday game and they stayed for the whole thing. 

There were thirteen innings!  Then the Blue Man Group performed.  Then there were fireworks.  It was a late night for them.  In fact, Michaela told me the next day that they had stayed up all night.  I said,"Well, it was the middle of the night."  She informed me that it was 2am when they got home and therefore it was 2 in the morning and I guess using that logic she and Christian did indeed stay up all night. 

I'm pretty sure that there is no point to this post.  I just wanted to document the mundanity of our life.  I think I should probably be grateful for it.  Sometimes there are too many things going on, or circumstances are heavy or bad, or a situation might be hanging over like a cloud threatening to burst forth on a picnic...but right now for us, it's regular old day-to-day stuff.

There are dishes to do, laundry to put away, toilets to clean, brownies to make.  And eat.  Along with some homemade fudge sauce that I have in the fridge that just can't go to waste.  Hey, that's some important stuff after all!  I'd better get to work.

A Conversation

Last night as I was folding a load of laundry that had taken over the end of our bed, Michaela came quietly into the room, with tears streaming down her cheeks.  She was afraid of having a nightmare like the one she had last week.  She doesn't want to go to sleep these days...I can identify with this, that feeling of waiting for some bad thing to pop into your head, or the fear of going to sleep because of what scene will play out in your mind.

I stopped what I was doing and we went and sat down; she started talking and asking questions, questions that I didn't have good answers for.  Well, some of them I could answer, but there were others for which no one has the exact answers.  One of the first things she said was that she was afraid of death.  I was silent for a minute, studying her face.  I asked her if there was something that had her thinking about that, something she had read, or heard somewhere.  She said no, that it was just on her mind.  I told her that I could understand her feelings, that it's scary to think about things that we don't know about, things that we haven't experienced.  But then I said,"But we do know what the Bible says about death..." and before I could continue she said,"That we don't need to be afraid." 

As we sat (she was on my lap, even though she's practically as big as I am and she was trying to pretend that she was still very little by holding her legs up a bit so her feet didn't rest on the floor) I could feel the tension leaving her body, I could tell that the tumultuous thoughts inside of her were quieting, even ordering themselves.  She began asking questions.  She wondered things like when we die will we still know ourselves, and when we are souls, will we be able to see other souls, or sing?  How can souls sing to God all the time?  Do souls have voices since they don't have bodies?  She wondered if when people die they lose their individuality.  We talked about how God created each one of us as a unique person, and I said that God loved each person that he created as an individual as well as a part of the body of Christ.  I told her that it seemed to me if God knows us, if we are fearfully and wonderfully made, if he knows the number of hairs on each of our heads...that surely when we die we will remain unique individuals.  She took a bit of her hair and let it slide through her hand delicately, and as she watched just that handful which she could not even number herself she said to me,"He's just so...vast."

It was the perfect word at that moment.

She kept asking questions...When Jesus comes back will only the people who are right there see him or will the whole world see him?  Will there still be people alive when he comes back or is God going to wait until everyone is dead to make the new heavens and the new earth?  Does God really sit on a throne and wear a crown with jewels and a huge flowing robe?  Can you see God in heaven (since God is a spirit and doesn't have a body like we do)?  How will we know Jesus and God?  (Oh, I think we will KNOW!) 

There were so many thought-provoking questions, and I wish I could have written them down as she asked them.  We talked about reading Revelation together (!!) when we are done with the mother/daughter study.  Nothing like moving from t-ball straight to the Major Leagues, or from drinking infant formula to popping habanero peppers. 

We often think of kids as reckless, without much consideration of the fragility of life, particularly their own. 

But I bet they are more aware of it than we think.  It probably pervades their thoughts more than we might imagine, but they don't know how to bring it up.  Think of the scenes that they see if the news is on or the paper is lying on the coffee table, or if, like in our lives, the news isn't on but the magazines in the check-out line in the grocery stores are front and center. 

Life seems so carefree most of the time for our children, but just below the surface, behind the uninhibited laughter and play, lies an awareness of the fact that we are, indeed, humans...and at some point each one of us will take a final breath.

A final breath, and yet a temporarily final breath.  I pray that we are able to give our kids not just the knowledge but the hope of the resurrection, the secure and confident knowing that it is so certain we can say we have already been raised with Christ.  It is a mystery beyond my own understanding, and yet I can say that even though my body may be returned to dust, my God will breathe life into it once again.  And he will make everything new.  (He says so...look in Revelation 21.)

Until then, I have the days to face here.  In this world.  A world I often hate.  Sometimes I can think life is beautiful (see the above photo); other times I think it's awful.  There is so much awful in the world...I don't have to name the things, you know what they are.  But it's still our world, God's world.  And I believe he is good and loves his creation, fallen as it is.  I have to live as a part of that creation, and teach my kids how to live in it.  It's hard. 

Maybe not as hard as reading through Revelation with my nine-year-old. 

But hard.

So, we'll continue having these conversations, and I think the more we do the easier hope will become.

Something New

Both of our big kids insist on continuing to grow.  Their legs keep getting longer!  Each year we go through their clothes and get rid of the pants they can no longer wear without looking like they're headed to an audition for Revenge of the Nerds XII.  These longer legs at the end of this summer also meant that their bikes were too small.  Michaela kept hitting her chin with her knees while riding...

and Christian...well, he looked like he was on a low-rider, so we thought it would be a good idea to get them new bikes.  Mike took them up to a local bike shop and they came home with two new sets of wheels.

Eliana didn't get a new bike, but she tried to convince me that she and Michaela could share.

Michaela wanted to burn rubber right away, so she lapped Eliana and I as we scootered around the block. (And by "we" I mean Eliana...I can't ride a scooter and take pictures.  I'm coordinated, as you know, but even I have my limits.)

She flew down the sidewalk.  But every now and then she had to relax...(her words)

A couple of days later Christian wanted to take a spin, too, so we headed over a couple of blocks to ride on a quieter street.

He did really well.  He's still getting used to riding with only two wheels; we just don't have a great deal of opportunities to ride bikes unless they want to go around the block.  Riding on the sidewalk is kind of hard when you don't have a lot of experience...there isn't much wiggle room.

He was quite happy until he wiped out the third time.  It was a doozy.  Apparently a couple of bloody scrapes are manageable, but three?  Not so much.  We headed home after that.

The bike is not the only new thing for Christian.  He is also starting Kenpo Karate.  He is VERY EXCITED about this.  One of his best friends is taking the class with him, which makes it even better.  He had his first official class last night, and his sensei tied his belt for him.  Pretty cool.

The place seems great...they take the discipline seriously, but the sensei is also a lot of fun and great with kids.  I am looking forward to watching Christian develop his strengths through this martial art.

I'm sure I'll share more of his experience as the months go by, as long as he doesn't karate chop me or any of his siblings. 

P.S.  In the first picture, Michaela is riding what used to be her tricycle, and it is now Eliana's.  It is not the bike that was replaced.  I just couldn't help myself from putting it there.  I didn't want anyone to be seriously concerned about her mental and physical welfare.