A Marvelous Marysville

Dear Friends,

I wish I could put words to the feelings that well up in me when convention time comes around each year. The overwhelming joy, the urgency of the preparation, the happiness in our eyes and hearts as we set off.

It's a magical feeling.

A spiritual feeling.

A feeling of love.

Marysville was marvelous.

This baby of mine looked on everything with every bit of the curiosity and excitement his little body could muster. That body of his is changing. I notice it more and more often and every time it takes me by surprise.

He walks now. He babbles.

There is a toddler appearing in my life where once there was a baby.

This baby. Dark hair. Rolly-polly legs.

Here he is last year at Marysville.

My 'three-times-the charm' baby.

The pacifier is a remaining relic of his baby days.

I vow to wean him of it.

I make loud proclamations.

I waver and give it back at nap time.

And in meeting.

What a weak human specimen I am.

My weakness extends to the insensibility of letting a little boy wallow in the sand pile in his meeting clothes.

Ah, well... What's another set of clothes to change?

Another bath?

I didn't have to face the laundry until we got home, after all.

His happy playing was worth the bother.

More and more I find myself following in his adventuresome wake. A few steps behind. Letting him learn and explore. Close enough to catch him as he falls. Close enough to scoop him up for a cuddle now and then. for my sake as much as his.

He seldom looks back to see if I am there.

But when he does, he expects to see me.

I love that he still needs me.

Gone away are the wrinkly, soft baby feet of yester-year.

They have been replaced by these chubby, often-stubbed, toddler toes.

She is very aware of how big he is getting. She can no longer carry him around. Often her voice rings through the house telling me of some new thing he has 'said' or accomplished.

She walks him around the grounds she carried him on last year.

Their smiles capture my heart now as they did then.

Mr. Loggerhead laughs a little and chides me gently because of my sentimentality. He says he is glad to see his boy grow. But I see a spark of a parent's resentment of time's flight flare up now and then. I know he feels it too.

It is hard to feel anything but the joy of living as we watch our bonny-wee boy, laughing in the sunshine.

We bear witness to brotherly love.

And love surpassing generations.

We count ourselves lucky.

Our other boy is growing too.

He is learning to play well with others.

Some seem to think that is an important life skill, or something.

Can't imagine why...

Even then, I catch him in quiet little solitary moments. He is happily flitting about in his own little world.

Oh, to be so completely carefree and oblivious.

I do the oblivious part okay.

Then there is our girl.

So much the little lady.

So much not.

So anxious to soak up any drop of "girl time" with me.

It is lovely that she wants to be with me.

I hope that doesn't change.

Ever.

She makes friends with ease.

This is her BFF, Tessa.

They are princesses. Both the big sister to two little brothers. They speak a language of their own. It is full of giggles, royal proclamations and disdain for boys - especially the brotherly kind.

They are already planning to get together for a girl-fest. They have it all planned. If only their families would get their act together!

I've found a rare thing sweeter than watching two little girls making every sunny moment count, enjoying each other and creating memories to remember on cold and lonesome days at home.

I am rather more fond of being the big sister than my daughter.

It grows on you, I guess.

My brothers are much less pesky than they used to be.

They rarely cut off my Barbie's hair these days.

They make me feel a little old.

They make me laugh.

They make me proud.

They surprise me with their maturity.

Their humor.

Their talents.

I love spending time with 'The Sibs'.

They are shiny spot in my list of blessings.

Right along side my parents.

How did I get so lucky to be born to them?

I admire so many things about them. They continue to teach me about so many things.

Their patience endures.

Long after my camera pokes into their faces for the ten-millionth time.

Can you tell I love my family?

I have good reason.

They are the best I've ever had.

I count my self lucky.

Lucky to see the amazing works of God in nature all around me.

Lucky this spider didn't bite my leg off.

So, so lucky.

Lucky to see the growth in my children as another year passes.

Here they are in 2009.

And 2010.

Last year.

This year.

I do so love these children of mine. It bursts over my sometimes in an overwhelming, breathtaking sort of way and I wonder if my heart can truly hold so much emotion, love and sweet, sweet memories.

Then my heart grows a little to take it all in.

And I am content.

Even when my silly children refuse to be the perfect children that they aren't in front of my camera.

Why am I surprised.

I should be thankful my camera is capturing things as they really are.

Right?

Right?

Another year has passed for Mr. loggerhead and I too.

Can you see it? I can.

I love it.

The convention days rolled to a close. We said goodbye to our friends and sealed the close of another age at this place. The hours, minutes, seconds are remembered for their beauty, their poignancy and their depth. The laughter here will be remembered too. The sunshine, an ever present reminder of the blessing we have been given. The love, a grateful response for the gift of being His children.

Love,

The Luckiest Girl in Nebraska