Ever Want a "Redo"?

Do you ever have one of those days...or moments...when you wish you could turn back time?  I would love to say that I never felt that way.  But, the truth is, there are definitely moments when, if I could, I would turn the clock back and call a redo. 

The funny thing about these redo moments, however, is that I would almost never choose to turn back time very far.  Most often...dare I say nearly always...my time travel would consist of setting the clock back by mere minutes.  I suppose there are the occasional times when I would like to jump through a time spanning wormhole that would deliver me back a few hours or days in the past, but not often.  Nope.  Mostly, I would chose to set my time traveling Delorian dials back 5 or 10 minutes.

Stepping without looking.  Sitting up too quickly when tucking my son in his lower bunk.  An unkind word.  A raised voice.  An unwise impulsive decision.  A selfish action.  Speaking before thinking.  An impatient response.  Ignoring a dog's signal that he needs to pee (ummmm...yeah....that just happened a couple nights ago).  Ignoring that little voice inside my head urging me to do or not do something in the moment.  Responding out of frustration.  Not saying "hello".  Saying "goodbye" too soon.  You get the idea.

The way I feel when I think I need a redo.

While I occasionally long for a redo when something inconvenient or undesirable happens - cutting my foot, bumping my head, missing a great photo opportunity, etc. - I most often desire a chance to turn back time when the result is hurt feelings, interrupted relationships, a veering from integrity, or simply, but significantly, a yuck in the gut feeling.  Sometimes, a simple pause...a catch of the breath...a cooling of temper...a count to 5...a focus on the Spirit...a consideration of feelings...a self reminder of who I am...or a quick prayer for clarity can make the difference between feeling "okay" (or even great) about the moment or wishing I could press life's rewind button.  Usually, the difference is made by simply shifting the focus from myself to the other person involved and by remembering who it is I'd like to be more like.

I read a line somewhere on-line recently that caught my attention.  As someone was signing off of a letter, they wrote the following: "Striving to be proud of everything I do today."  What a great tag-line for life when used in humility.  What a great line to keep the "I wish I would-uvs" at bay.  If I consistently strive to be proud of everything I do, while keeping God and others at the forefront of my thinking, I bet I would have very few want-to-redo moments. 

Before it gets any later and I end up wishing I could turn back time to get more sleep, I am going to head to bed.  As always, thanks for reading.  I hope it's been relevant, easy to relate to, and somehow encouraging to read.

Positively Phototactic!

The other night, I put the backyard flood light on so I could take my new pooch out for a final 'go' before bed.  When I came back in, I was amazed by the number of bugs hovering around the light and on the window screens.  My first thought was "gross!" and my second thought was, "so why do insects go to the light the way they do?" I figured that I must have learned that at one time along the way, but I couldn't remember.  So, being the geek that I am, I had to look it up.


Phototaxis.  Phototaxis is the movement of a cell or an organism toward or away from a source of light.  If an organism is positively phototactic, it is drawn toward a light source, like a moth.  If an organism is negatively phototactic, it is repelled by the light, like a cockroach or a worm.  Okay.  I like that - phototaxis.  But, why are so many bugs positively phototactic?  Again, the geek in me had to find out.

A number of sights suggested that bugs use the moon as a navigational tool.  One theory is that bugs keep the moon light on one side or the other to keep flying in a straight line, similar to navigating a boat by a stationary point along the shoreline.  When the bug sees a flashlight, floodlight, or front porch light, it gets confused and thinks that bright light is the moon.  They head toward it thinking they are reaching their destination (although, I am not sure how much actual thinking is involved here) or are still on the correct flight path.  When bugs endlessly circle the light, it may be an attempt to keep the "moon" to one side of their body in order to fly a straight path.  Poor little guys get mislead and confused, resulting in a failed journey or (sniff sniff) death.

I, like a moth, am positively phototactic.  I am drawn to light.  On most days, if there is a sunny spot on the floor, from light streaming in through the window, I eventually spend a moment in that place and soak it up - the warmth and the light.  And, while I tend to be a night owl as opposed to an early bird, there is something reassuring about the break of dawn...the light of a new day. 

I am spiritually positively phototactic, as well.  Wow - that was a mouthful!  From an early age, I was introduced to and drawn to the Light.  Jesus is called (and calls himself) the light of the world.  In John 1:5, it says that the light shines in darkness and darkness cannot overcome it (or extinguish it).  I am drawn to that light and everything it stands for, desperately wanting to be in the Light.

And yet, there are times when I get distracted by shiny objects.  Like a raccoon who gets his little mitts stuck in a jar while trying to pull out a shiny pop tab, I can sometimes get caught by the shimmery lights of something attractive - popularity, money, Facebook time,  a TV show that may or may not be good for my mind and heart, the lure of doing nothing at all, a prestigious job, a decadent dessert, being "right", looking good, sounding smart, whatever it may be.  It's not that any of those things are necessarily bad on their own: I'd much rather be an enjoyable chic who has a bit of knowledge than an annoying and ignorant hag-lady.  I certainly savour a good sweet treat, especially in the company of friends.  And, money is a necessary need and something I should deal with wisely.  But when those things set me off course of the true Light and keep me from fulfilling the stuff I should be doing in the Light (namely being a benefit to others for the glory of God - in whatever shape or form that may take), I am like a confused bug in the night.  When pride, focus on self, or focus on the "stuff" of the world become my guiding system, I am at serious risk for being mislead and failing in my life journey.  Even good intentions can lead to destruction when they are not guided with integrity, honesty, and accountability (you know the saying about roads paved with good intentions).   And, for me, my human attempts at integrity, honesty, and accountability fall short without the Light to illuminate.

I love the way creation points again and again to the Creator.  Phototaxis points to the Creator.  I am thankful for my positive phototaxis.  I'd rather be like a moth than a cockroach any day.  Hopefully, I will keep the right light in focus, however, and not get distracted by a shiny piece of jewelry, or worse yet, a bug zapper!

What's Your Passion?

The other day I read a blog posting from an old friend of mine.  We were "co-stars" in Tom Sawyer back in the day when Farrah Fawcett locks were en vogue.  Apparently, patterned turtle necks under 3/4 sleeve t-shirts were also quite the fashion statement!

At any rate, Steve wrote about how he admired those who had "nerdy" obsessions or passions.  He indicated that he was more of a Renaissance man with a wide scope of interests rather than a man with a passion about any one thing.  As a result, he wondered whether or not this lack of a passion was healthy.  This got me thinking.

Lately, my kids have hooked into a T.V. show that is filled with passion and obsession.  Thanks (or not) to my dear sister Sue and her daughter, Jessica, my kids love to watch the show Whale Wars.  I admit it,  I too have found myself sucked in from time to time as we watch the Sea Shepherds try anything they can think of to rid the seas of the evils of whaling in protected waters.  If you haven't seen the show, it is worth a gander if you want to see people driven to extremes for something they believe in.  I admire their passion.  I dig their gumption.

The "funny" thing about this show, however, is the number of times that passion and zeal turn into costly mistakes.  Granted, the show would not be what it is without torn up inflatables, broken props, leaks in fresh water tanks, failing helicopter rotors, stranded team members, and so on.  But it leaves me to wonder whether their passionate obsession is at times blind to reasonable forethought, planning, preparation, and carry through.  Is the impulse to live out their passion in the moment of "engagement" with the whaling vessels short circuiting their common sense?  As a viewer I hear myself shouting, "let go of the rope - you're gonna get hurt!" and wondering why in the attempt to "prop fowl" there isn't a smidge more mother wit amongst the Shepherds.  And, isn't it true that we have all heard of people so passionately obsessed with something that they are so to the detriment of their relationships, their livelihoods, and to their own well beings?

Passion is absolutely necessary to get the hard work of the world done.  I think most of the advancements of man - whether technological, scientific, human rights related, medical, spiritual, whatever - would not have occurred without a good dose of passionate obsession. Yet the passion, I believe, in order to be most effective must be tempered, to some degree, with practical perspective and sound problem solving.  Reckless abandon can become quite wreck-full without some solid forethought and planning.  An amazing spark of an idea ignited by passion can burn out quickly if there is not willful determination for patience, perseverance, and, perhaps, even long term "suffering".   While I do believe that a person with fiery passion can also possess gifts and talents required for the long haul and perspective keeping, I also believe that some of the Renaissance men and women of the world (along with those even-keeled- but-really-good-at-what-they-do people) are necessary to keep a balance along the way - within a particular cause or generally within the world.  A world full of passionately obsessive people lacking some Renaissance-like skills would surely cause some sort of chaos.

That being said, I believe that most people, somewhere within them, have a degree of passion for something; perhaps not a passionate obsession - which in itself may not be healthy - but some underlying sense of urgency or spark toward an idea, activity, person, or event.  Maybe it is the area in which ones buttons are most easily pushed; the thing that you are most easily ruffled over.  Maybe it's the thing you can't seem to shake from the back of your mind.  Perhaps your passions are seasonal, changing over time or redefined based on experience or availability related to that passion.  If circumstances were different, just maybe the ember of passion resting among the ashes could be fanned into a full on fire producing flame.  Sometimes, we don't always know how to shape our passions into practical endeavors, however, which may make us doubt that there is any zeal or zest to begin with.  I imagine if I sat down with Steve and chatted with him for a while I would find that he has passion hidden under practicality or circumstance.  One guess, for example, is that his interest in many things is sparked by a passion (subdued perhaps) for an expanse of knowledge.  No one said a Renaissance man has to imply a lack of eager dedication or drive toward something.


The bottom line, in my mind, is that we were all created uniquely with purpose and value.  We all have our own gifts, talents, and interests.  It would be horribly boring and thoroughly ineffective if we were all created the same way.  Finding that thing or those things which make our hearts beat a little faster or our minds race a little longer is part of discovering how we were created and for what purpose.  Neither the obsessively passionate nor the 'jack of all trades' is unhealthy when working in step with divine plan for which one was created.  Either one can be a world changer...a mover and a shaker.  What is that spark within you?  Wherein does your passion lie?  Or, if you are more of a well rounded life liver, what drives those things that give you your "roundness"?   Whatever it is, it is not by chance, but by the thoughtful design of the One who made you.

Training the trainer

Yikes - it's been a long time!  One may notice...and I hope at least one does...that I haven't written for a while.  I started a few times to get my thoughts down, but have been unsuccessful at penning a complete post.  I've got a few "valid" excuses, primarily lack of time and computer troubles, but the truth is I have mostly chosen not to write.  Or, when I felt I might have a moment to write, the words just didn't seem to flow.

 It’s been a little over a month since school let out and my summer started.  While this would seem to imply that I have more time on my hands, the reality is I have been more intentional with the time I've had.  I feel, in many ways, like I have wasted fewer minutes in the last month or so than I did when my schedule was full with "work".  My goal has been to soak up the time with my kids and pour out into them, giving them structured fun and learning opportunities.

                         

They have definitely had time for free fun without me hovering, but in those times, I seem to find myself working on projects or maintaining the home.  And, as of last week, we added a dog to the mix and have an out of town hubby.   Mind you, I have watched a few Netflix episodes of Monk along the way… while working on projects or sorting laundry (okay...stop laughing at my choice)...but rarely has a minute been "wasted".  And, while I do not view writing as wasted time at all, there just has not been enough time to spend at the keyboard or to spin thoughts as well as I would like.  Hence, my days away and my current attempt to write again...

In light of my new life at home full time with three kids and a dog, I have been thinking a lot about training.  Isn’t it true that, in many ways, training up a child or training a pet is less about training the child or the pet and more about training ourselves?  And, isn’t it true that picking your battles well can be half the battle? 

Since we have such a great yard and three kids that run around in it, I have a strong desire to train my dog, Smudge, to poop and pee in one particular area.  According to a number of well-intended pet owners and experts on line, this should be a relatively simple task.  Take pooch out to the same place each time he has to go.  Praise him like crazy when he does.  Be consistent and he will soon get the hang of it and eagerly go where he is supposed to go.  Huh.  I wish these experts would have a dog whispering session with my Smudge and let him know what his half of this plan is.  I cannot even begin to calculate the number of minutes – hours actually – that I have spent this past week in a particular spot behind our garage.  The mosquitos are surely laughing at the crazy lady with wonderful veins who stands there just waiting to be eaten repeating “go potty” over and over again to an oblivious dog.  For some reason, my dog – a sweet beagle spaniel mix – has a bladder of steel.  Honestly, he usually only goes twice a day.  (Yes, he has all day access to water)  One would think he would want to go first thing in the morning.  Nope – nothing, not even a trickle.  And pooping – ugh – last night I was out with him for a long time, brought him in, took my eyes off of him for one minute thinking he was with another family member, and found him starting to go in the boys’ bathroom.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  I ran him straight out to finish his business in my designated area and then praised him for “going potty OUTSIDE!”  Tonight I figured with three successes and a save within the last day and a half, I would have no problem getting him to go again in the “right” place.  Wrong.  It was not gonna happen.  So, after standing around in the same place for far too long, I broke my training plan and took Smudge for a walk/run around the block and visited with the neighbors for a few minutes.  Then, after watching Smudge pounce on a baby frog, I took him back to the spot for several minutes more.  Nothing.

It was at that moment I decided that I needed to surrender, or at least compromise, this battle for the moment.  I was driving myself crazy, feeding multiple mosquitos, feeling like I was wasting a load of time, and clearly not making headway with my puppy.  At that moment, I abandoned my post and decided to walk him around my yard for just a little more time.  Sure enough, back near the woods, he decided to do his thing.  “Good boy!!  Good potty outside!”  I was happy he got the job done within my yard, but silently mourning the lost battle.  I wonder if Smudge was silently celebrating his victory or if he was just relieved to have relieved himself in a place that fit his olfactory preferences best.  Tomorrow morning, I will need to decide how badly I want to get him to go where and when I want him to go...and whether it’s a battle I want to continue and work to train at this point. 

Consistency is so often the key to training.  When training up my kids, I am most successful when I am consistent with them.  Consistent boundaries, consistent rules, consistent expectations, and follow through.  Sometimes, in my fatigue or my busy-ness, I give up an opportunity for beneficial follow through.  On occasion, it’s not a big deal.  But sometimes, especially with particular personalities, my lack of a reliable response results in a step back in behavior or a manipulation on the part of my child.  My lack of carry-through can create the behavior I want to extinguish.  As well, when I want to be successful with fitness, I need to be consistent in my training.  My recent lack of consistency in fitness is annoyingly evident, but not enough so that I have forced myself over to the Y or onto the treadmill in my warm garage.  I will likely be bugged by the fact that I’m softer than I want to be, but have only myself to blame.  Consistency in exercise and a healthy diet, as “hard” as it may seem sometimes, is the only way to ensure that I am doing my part to shape my shape.  It is hard to be consistent sometimes, but the payoff is directly related to the time put in.

Time in prayer or in God’s word is the same way.  If I don’t…more aptly, when I don’t… consistently seek some time to spend with the One who wants to spend time with me the most, I lose headway in my “spiritual training.”  Just like it is easy to put off the gym or a guiding instruction to a child, it is far too easy for me to put off my time with God.  This avoidance or simple neglect leads to a greater gap in the relationship that I know I need to feed the most.  While I may long to be tight with God, if I don’t do my share of the work, by consistently thinking about and spending time with Him, it just won’t happen.  And, in reality, this battle is the most important one for me to choose to fight and fight well.

I wish I was more of a steady ship sometimes...that I could set my course and never waiver...that I never lacked the consistency and discipline required to be the perfect parent, the most fit 40 year old around, and the closest friend that Jesus could ever have.  And yet, I know that I likely will never be any of those things.  However,  I know that I am still growing and - if I allow myself to be - still being shaped by the One who knows me best and sees me even in my weakness.  As I've said before, He's not finished with me yet.  For that, I am consistently thankful!


Can you believe I am posting this picture?  This was last winter at my sister's cabin before some late night skiing, I think.

 I feel as if I could write more or at least edit what I’ve written to make it flow more.  But I am going to end here or this will be one more started and unfinished posts waiting to be completed.  I have been consistently going to bed too late this past week.  This is one consistent habit I need to change so that I am not too tired to soak in, pour out, and be consistent with my kids and my Smudge.  I hope to get back into the swing of things and write more often again.  We will see.  I have certainly missed it, but have been thankful for the things that have taken up the time gained by not writing.

As always, thanks for reading and feel free to share your thoughts or ideas.  It is always an encouragement.

Oh Mickey You're So Fine....

I'm not entirely sure how it happened.  I blinked.  And that was it.  She was once a little smidge of a thing and now....now she has graduated.  Oh, I know that a lot that happened in that "blink of an eye", but it feels, in some ways, like that was all it was...a blink.  A flash.  A hiccup.  However, in reality, a grand total of 6659 days somehow flew by in what felt like a mere snap of the fingers.  MacKenzie, my niece, has grown up.

Before the big event!

I was there when she was born.  It wasn't supposed to happen that way, actually.  I was visiting my family over Spring Break, a week or so before she was expected.  In my heart I really wished I was staying longer and figured I wouldn't get to meet my sister's first baby until well after she arrived.  But, leave it to God's timing.  My sister went into labour while I was still on my break.  I had the privilege of being at my sister's side through much of her labour and then, unfortunately, outside the O.R. during the emergency C-section that finally brought Mickey out into the world.  After my brother-in-law, I was the first to get to hold MacKenzie and had the joy of helping with her first bath.  Although my time with this newborn was brief, it was a sweet blessing and honour to me.



Mickey on my lap at my wedding, just before turning 1 year old.

Despite a few months of colicky crabbiness as an infant, MacKenzie has always been a model kid.  One of my best memories of Mickey was driving across the country, from Minnesota to Vancouver, British Columbia.  She was about four years old at the time.  Her parents, Sue and Pat, agreed to help Ken and I drive our moving van, with car in tow, as we moved to go to Regent College.  Ken and I drove from Indiana to Minnesota on our own and then continued on with the Chacich gang as our back-up support and encouragement.  It was quite an adventure.

The moving van, a large U-Haul, was a four seater.  It had two front seats and two rear cab seats, which faced inward toward each other behind some tied back cargo netting.  Now, if you are any good at math, you will have already figured out that we were one seat short for our cross country journey.  In order to remedy this situation, we decided to set a short beach chair on the floor between the two inward facing chairs, thus creating a five seater.  No, we did not make Mickey sit on the floor.  She was safely secured in her car seat on one of the inward facing seats, behind the black cargo netting.  However, given her positioning, her small size (even in the car seat) and the loosely tied cargo netting, presumably available if there was cargo and not people in the rear cab section, the poor little bug could hardly see a thing outside the back cab space, let alone outside the van.  For three or four days she rode like this.  She didn't complain.  She didn't cry (at least not enough for me to remember).  She didn't make a fuss.  She just went along for the adventure, taking it all in stride.  At gas station stops, which were unreasonably long due to a gas tank issue, she "helped" wash windows and chased grasshoppers with her auntie.  She even endured crazy hotel stops that had their own little hiccups and a long wait at the Canadian border.  She was a mini rock star!

MacKenzie is a kid of character.  She cares for others, serving and sharing when she can.  She works hard with honesty and integrity, earning her honour cords for academic achievement.  She has a foundation in faith, not just blindly following, but wanting to understand for herself the spiritual legacy she has been given.  She loves life, laughing at herself and stepping outside of her comfort zone from time to time, rarely taking herself too seriously it seems.  She is a lover of justice who aches over hurts in the world, desiring a job as a nurse, perhaps in an area of poverty for a time.  She loves her family, immediate and extended, making family time a priority and crying when her faraway family leaves from a visit.  I remember far too many of those tears...hating the moment my car would have to pull away from her driveway or when we parted ways to head toward our respective homes.  Mickey is easy to be around, rarely putting herself before others, but often going with the flow...though not so hot at making decisions (the two of us together are hopeless decision makers).  I like to think I'm Mickey's favorite aunt, but she knows she's not "supposed" to have a favorite...I'll just pretend that I am.

Pat, Sue, Jessica (little sis), Mickey, me, Mom, and Dad following Mickey's graduation ceremony.

From a sweet little munchkin of a girl to a lovely young woman, MacKenzie has grown up beautifully.  Although, much to my chagrin, I have lived away from her nearly her whole life, I have been deeply impacted and encouraged by Mickey over the years.  I am thankful for memories etched in my mind and on my heart.  I look forward to hearing Mickey's stories from NDSU and finding out how well she is doing in the adventure of university life.  But, I can't deny that I will be sad to say goodbye at the end of the summer, knowing that I won't see her around near as often as I'd like.  I will miss getting down with her at Zumba and helping her on occasional school projects.  And, family get togethers just won't be the same.  But, I've already told her that I'm happy to come have sleep overs in her dorm whenever she wants me to.  I'm sure none of her friends will think it's strange that her 40 year old aunt is staying over....after all, it was only a few years ago when I was living in a dorm too, wasn't it?

Congratulations, MacKenzie!!  I love you and am so very proud of you.  May God guide you every step of the way as you move into your next blink of an eye.  And know that I am always here for you if you need an auntie to call on.

                   (For the longest time, Mickey thought this song was written about her - an old favourite!)

Can you pat my back?

At least twice a week, after I think my children may be asleep, my bedroom door slowly opens with my little man Benji on the other side.  He stands there, occasionally disoriented, looking at me calmly with wide, but sleepy eyes.  His usual request, "can you come pat my back?", falls softly from his mouth, surprisingly quiet for such a typically boisterous boy.  And, on most nights, I agree to check on him "in a few minutes" as long as he goes back to bed and stays in bed.

Tonight was no different.  Typing away in the dark, I didn't notice the door swing quietly open at first.  Then suddenly, a slight movement caught my eye and there he was...standing in the doorway yet again.  Clearly tired, but not fully ready to give up the battle, he quietly said, "Would you come pat my back?"  As usual, I responded, "I'll be there in a few minutes..."

Five minutes later, I quietly tiptoed into Ben's room.  Not a creature was stirring.  Ben was already fast asleep, looking content and peaceful.  Despite his slumbered state, I leaned in, patted his chest gently and kissed his forehead.  It is not entirely unusual...this falling asleep after requesting that I come in to pat his back or check on him.  I think, in the anticipation of my coming...in knowing I am near...there is a peace that falls over his little heart and mind, allowing the elusive sleep to settle in and make itself at home.  In this moment, I am reminded that this little sweetheart, the one who probably stretches me most, seems to constantly ride the line between desired independence and desperate need for reassurance.

And yet, isn't that true of so many of us?  We desperately want independence - the ability to stand on our own two feet - and yet we long for some reassurance that we are not in "this" - whatever the "this" may be - alone.

I know it is true for me.  I waffle, at times, between a sense of confident strength and the need for someone to stand with me...or, even, to carry me in a moment of weakness or frailty.  While I much prefer my "I am woman here me roar" strength, there are moments when my strength comes, in part, from what someone else is able to share with me.  At times, I just need to snuggle up into the arms of my Ken to regain the sense of calm that was somehow elusive only moments earlier.  Other times, I need my sister or a friend to share my heart with.  Even if they don't have the "fix", their presence in my life is a reminder that I am not walking alone.  Oddly enough, in this age of social networking, sometimes even a reassuring word or encouraging note from a far away friend can lighten the load that life can sometimes bear.  And, most often, when I take it, my time alone with God can renew my sense of purpose and of worth. 

I love that my little boy loves me.  I love that a word from me, as simple as, "I'll be there in a few minutes..." can bring him peace enough to sleep.  I love that he feels that way because of the relationship we have.  I love that it reminds me of the relationships I have with those who are my cheerleaders and champions...those in whom I know I can call on in a time of need.  And, I love that it reminds me of my eternal relationship that I have with the One who made me.  It reminds me that in my weakness, He is strong.  It reminds me that in my weakness, He gives me others to stand along side me...to stand in the gap or hold up my arms when I no longer can.  It reminds me that He will never leave nor forsake me...not when I am trying desperately to be independent (and, perhaps the one inadvertently doing the leaving or forsaking)....nor when I am in desperate need for His tangible presence to sustain me.

And with that, I, too, am going to go to bed.  As I go, I am calmly confident and reassured.  And, I trust that sleep will not be elusive tonight.

When I Grow Up...

Tuesday was my day off with Eliana.  Unfortunately I had to spend a good chunk of my time doing some busy, but extremely important, work and could not "play" as much as I would have liked.  And yet, Elly just hung out next to me most of the day.  Never far from reach, often expressing little encouragements, and simply being by her mom.

While we probably should have had a free lunch at home, we decided to go out to one of Elly's favourite places...you guessed it, McDonald's.  We weren't able to go until quite late due to said work that wasn't going quite as smoothly or quickly as I'd hoped.  But, Elly patiently waited, watching a bit of T.V. and chilling out next to me.

.

Clearly not McDonald's - just a fun shot!

At McDonald's, I watched Eliana with a sense of admiration.  When we pulled up, she confidently hopped out of the van in her fashionable gray sweater dress and gray tights.  She bounced into the restaurant with a light heart and a hint of confident, but respectful, sass.  At the counter, she chatted freely with the woman on the register and a man wearing dirty boots and a worker's jump suit.  She wondered where he worked to get such dirty boots.  She wasn't quite sure what to do when he replied that he drove a truck all around town and down dirt roads picking up garbage.  But, nonetheless, with a simple prompt she told him thank you for telling her where he worked.  She twirled for the register lady, showing off the dress that earned her a compliment from behind the counter.

Once we got the food, she eagerly went into the play area (ALWAYS my favourite place to sit!) and found a seat.  We were the only ones in there, but there clearly had been a rush earlier as a number of the tables were still dirty.  I gave her three choices from the clean tables available.  "This one has a little wet spot, but that's okay!" she smiled as she slipped into her seat.  She then gleefully pulled out her apples, chicken nuggets, chocolate milk and zooble toy.  You would have thought she was enjoying Christmas dinner and opening a special gift.  And she chatted away, commenting on big things and little things that many people don't even notice.  It caused me to comment, "You know what's cool about God?  He cares about the big things and the little things too.  Nothing's too big or too little for Him."  She briefly pondered this comment and then continued on, talking about her brothers and other things that made her happy.  While it may sound like "excessive" talking, it wasn't.  It was just fun.

Again....Not McDonald's.

"Do you think I should give my stomach a break and play for a little bit?" she sheepishly grinned and asked.  I normally say no to mid-meal play breaks, but what the heck?  "Sure," just be sure to wipe your hands really well before you go on and when you come back.  Up she popped, wiping her hands and skipping over to the play equipment.  While she played, an employee came in to wipe tables and clean up spilled milk.  As Elly scrambled off the end of the slide, she cheerfully greeted the young man.  "Hello!" she yelled.  And up she went again.  "Watch me drive, Mom!  Can you see me up here in the window?"  She chattered on about who knows what and the cleaning guy, who'd also seen us when we first came in, asked, "how old is she?"  "She's five...well, five and a half," I replied.  "Wow!  She sounds really smart," he said.  "Yep, she's a smarty," I replied, not totally sure what to say.  As he and I chatted about a variety of things...yes, I do often talk to the workers of fast food restaurants...she occasionally popped by and chimed in.  After a little while, cleaning guy said goodbye as he left the play area, thanking us for coming in to eat.  "Goodbye!  Thank you!" Elly yelled out her encouragement.

As we left McDonald's, I prompted Elly to say goodbye and thank you to the woman who helped us at the register.  She attempted without success two times and then scooted closer to the counter.  "Goodbye and thank you!" she cheerfully echoed.  "You are welcome!  And thank you!" said register lady.  And then Laquilla (I think that is the right name), the familiar manager, asked Elly if she would like a kiddy cone.  "Hooray!  A kiddy cone!" Elly said as she bopped over to the counter.  Again - Christmas in May!  "Tell Miss Laquilla thank you," I prompted. "Thank you, Miss Laquilla"...and then "Thank you, Miss Melanie" (aka register lady).  And out she went practically skipping, just as she came in.

As I watched Eliana, admiring her confidence, her positive attitude, her desire to connect and make others feel good, her joy and delight in the simple things, her sweetness, her charisma, her innocence, and her unabashed fun, it hit me.  "You know what, Eliana?" I said as I buckled her into her booster seat. "What, Mom?" she said licking the edges of her cone.  "When I grow up, I want to be just like you," I said.  She laughed and said, "Mom, you can't have blond hair like me!"  "No, no," I said, "I want to be like you" and then told her a few things that I saw in her that I liked.  Elly just grinned and started to bite her kiddy cone cone.

It is true.  As I grow up...or at least grow older...I would love to be more like what I saw in Elly today, and most days, actually.  And, I would love to be more like what I saw in my Grandma.  It is possible.  He's not finished with me yet.  He's begun a good work in me and will be faithful to complete it (Phil. 1:6).  I'm sure of it!

Definitely not McDonald's! But how fun and free spirited is that?!?