“No. I don’t want to,” the preschooler said, shaking his head.
“But doesn’t it look like fun?” I asked, pointing to stack of canoes.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. He didn’t want to put on a life vest and climb into that canoe.
I assured him it was okay that he didn't want to go, and sent Llama Papa and the noisy boys off in canoes with my Aunt and Uncle. The preschooler and I walked back to the boathouse, and I asked one more time.
“Why don’t you want to try the canoe?”
“Well, it’s too long.”
“We don’t have to go for a long ride. We could just paddle over to the dock. Wanna try it?”
“No. I don’t have my swimsuit on.”
“Oh, that’s okay. We won’t get wet. We’ll stay dry in the boat.”
“Then why do we need to wear those vests?”
“Those are just-in-case vests. Sometimes the boat tips over by accident and we wear the vests to stay safe. But most of the time, almost all of the time, you stay perfectly dry in the boat.”
“Oh. Well. Oh. Okay. I changed my mind. I want to try it.”
We flagged down Llama Papa’s canoe as it headed around a corner, and climbed in. The preschooler grinned as he sat down. We paddled around Stoney Lake, swapping stories with our family in the other canoe and racing toward a mama swan and her babies. We enjoyed the fresh air and sun and time together floating around. The preschooler loved it.
And to think he almost missed it.
Fear holds us back sometimes without us even noticing it. We don’t have the words to describe it, but it’s there. And sometimes we just need someone to ask us the right questions so we can move forward. Life is short. Too short to be held back by insecurity and fear.
Surround yourself with people who ask good questions. People who listen. People who encourage you to try new things and be your best self.
You’ll be glad you did.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
good times
School starts one week from today. As much as I can’t believe our summer break is over, I’m ready for it to be over. So are the noisy boys. We’ve had a blast, to be sure, but at this point, I think we’re all craving the structure of the school routine.
Especially after spending over twenty hours together in the minivan last week. For the record, twenty hours is a lot of together.
We drove to Minnesota and back for my family reunion, stopping in the Dells on the way to break up the trip. Overall, the kids did great. The trip home got dicey after about eight hours on the road…but we were only a few hours from home so we pushed through with the help of a bag of tootsie roll pops and a box of sparkle bandaids.
It was so good to be with my family, just laughing and hanging out. We rented a big dorm at this camp where we all stayed. The noisy boys loved swimming in the lake, going out on the paddleboats with their Grandpa, and jumping off the back of a pontoon boat for a swim. Baby b. loved all the attention that comes your way when you’re two and cute, and throwing rocks off the dock.
This side of the family only gets together every other year, so we missed the last reunion. (Baby b. was just a few weeks old then.) It was good to reconnect, especially with my Grandpa, who just celebrated his 88th birthday.
And I have two new favorite games: Ticket to Ride and Bananagrams.
Especially after spending over twenty hours together in the minivan last week. For the record, twenty hours is a lot of together.
We drove to Minnesota and back for my family reunion, stopping in the Dells on the way to break up the trip. Overall, the kids did great. The trip home got dicey after about eight hours on the road…but we were only a few hours from home so we pushed through with the help of a bag of tootsie roll pops and a box of sparkle bandaids.
It was so good to be with my family, just laughing and hanging out. We rented a big dorm at this camp where we all stayed. The noisy boys loved swimming in the lake, going out on the paddleboats with their Grandpa, and jumping off the back of a pontoon boat for a swim. Baby b. loved all the attention that comes your way when you’re two and cute, and throwing rocks off the dock.
This side of the family only gets together every other year, so we missed the last reunion. (Baby b. was just a few weeks old then.) It was good to reconnect, especially with my Grandpa, who just celebrated his 88th birthday.
And I have two new favorite games: Ticket to Ride and Bananagrams.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
paint chips and georgie rooms
Things are sizzling around here. We promised the noisy boys a new bedroom before school starts, and it’s been quite a project.
Their old room has an adorable Curious George mural on one wall. They loved it, until about a year ago. Since then, poor George has been covered with basketball stickers and spiderman posters.
Because I can’t bring myself to paint over George, not just yet, we decided to move baby b. into the “georgie” room. Which meant that the twins would move into the guest room, and the guests would move into baby b’s room, which means…a lot of painting.
And while we’re at it we may as well paint our room.
Right.
The painter has been here every morning this week, and our entire upstairs looks like it threw up clothes and sheets and books and stuffed animals. We’ve basically been camping out in our own house.
Fun.
I realize I’ve been quiet on this blog lately. Between trips to the pool and painting and vacations, I haven’t had much computer time. Once school starts, I’ll be back to posting more regularly.
Only nineteen more days. (But who’s counting?)
Their old room has an adorable Curious George mural on one wall. They loved it, until about a year ago. Since then, poor George has been covered with basketball stickers and spiderman posters.
Because I can’t bring myself to paint over George, not just yet, we decided to move baby b. into the “georgie” room. Which meant that the twins would move into the guest room, and the guests would move into baby b’s room, which means…a lot of painting.
And while we’re at it we may as well paint our room.
Right.
The painter has been here every morning this week, and our entire upstairs looks like it threw up clothes and sheets and books and stuffed animals. We’ve basically been camping out in our own house.
Fun.
I realize I’ve been quiet on this blog lately. Between trips to the pool and painting and vacations, I haven’t had much computer time. Once school starts, I’ll be back to posting more regularly.
Only nineteen more days. (But who’s counting?)
Monday, December 31, 2007
gearing up
The Llama Papa is getting ready for a trip to Russia. Siberia, to be exact. He’s going with the Slavic Gospel Association to work on this project. Now, you’re probably wondering why my husband would choose to go to Siberia in January. The short answer is that a good friend of his works at SGA, and he’s always wanted to join him on one of his trips.
When we decided to take a self-funded sabbatical and regroup as a family, we sat down and made a list of what we hoped to accomplish during this time off. The list includes household projects like cleaning out our basement and painting our bedroom, along with personal goals and dreams. My list includes things like completing a book proposal, going to Calvin college’s Festival of Faith in Writing, and going on a silent retreat led by Ruth Haley Barton. The Llama Papa’s list includes this trip to Russia, backpacking in Yosemite, and some classes to keep his job skills sharp. When school’s out for the noisy boys, we hope to do some traveling as a family. That’s on the list too.
I’m thrilled to see my husband go on this trip. As a young college student at Urbana, he felt a distinct call to missions. Not to go, but to send. When we began dating seriously, he shared this call with me, as it would affect our life together in a major area––our finances.
All these years he’s been sending, it’s exciting to see him go.
Will you join me in committing to pray for him while he’s away? He’ll be gone January 2 through the 14th. He’ll be helping on the camera crew, taking pictures with his fancy new camera. The trip schedule is grueling, with planes and trains and not much sleep. Please pray for endurance and good health and safe travels. And for God to show up. Pray especially for that.
When we decided to take a self-funded sabbatical and regroup as a family, we sat down and made a list of what we hoped to accomplish during this time off. The list includes household projects like cleaning out our basement and painting our bedroom, along with personal goals and dreams. My list includes things like completing a book proposal, going to Calvin college’s Festival of Faith in Writing, and going on a silent retreat led by Ruth Haley Barton. The Llama Papa’s list includes this trip to Russia, backpacking in Yosemite, and some classes to keep his job skills sharp. When school’s out for the noisy boys, we hope to do some traveling as a family. That’s on the list too.
I’m thrilled to see my husband go on this trip. As a young college student at Urbana, he felt a distinct call to missions. Not to go, but to send. When we began dating seriously, he shared this call with me, as it would affect our life together in a major area––our finances.
All these years he’s been sending, it’s exciting to see him go.
Will you join me in committing to pray for him while he’s away? He’ll be gone January 2 through the 14th. He’ll be helping on the camera crew, taking pictures with his fancy new camera. The trip schedule is grueling, with planes and trains and not much sleep. Please pray for endurance and good health and safe travels. And for God to show up. Pray especially for that.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
snapshots of Christmas
Christmas Eve: Grandma and Grandpa Llama graciously take our three boys for several hours in the afternoon. Just long enough for Llama Papa and I to finish cleaning the house. (Oh, how quickly it all goes without any little helpers!)
5:30 p.m. Grandma and Grandpa arrive with their overnight bags and join us for a bowl of soup. A few of my friends have told me how strange it is that my husband’s family (who all live about five minutes away) all spend the night on Christmas Eve. But it feels normal to us, to all wake up together on Christmas morning. And so the tradition continues and we all take turns hosting the party.
9 p.m. My husband’s sister and her family arrive. I tuck my nieces into their bed on the floor of the office.
until 11 p.m. The house is full of Christmas magic as stockings are stuffed and toys are put together. We all have way too much fun trying out the wii that Santa leaves for the noisy boys.
11 p.m. My sister-in-law is impressed with the cute Christmas basket I left on her bed. A few bottles of water, chocolates, tissues, and a flashlight. Of course, they’re sleeping on a pull-out futon in the basement, with boxes of stuff lining the walls. She is sweet to notice the basket instead of the stuff.
2 a.m. “Mom! Mom! My tummy hurts,” a too-hot Twin A. crawls into my bed. I go downstairs to get the children’s tylenol, and give him a dose.
“Did Santa come yet?” he asks.
“I wasn’t paying attention. I was too worried about you,” I tell him.
He cuddles up with his Dad and I move into his bedroom.
7:03 a.m. I hear stirring downstairs, but see that Twin B. is still snoozing. Suddenly, he sits upright and moves his curtain. “YES!” he shouts when the light comes in. Like a bolt of lightning, he runs to his door. I am glad I got to see this. And, thankfully, Twin A’s fever never comes back.
7:15 a.m. Wii.
8:00 a.m. The look on baby b.’s face is priceless. He woke up today with no expectations, and suddenly, there’s a party at his house! With presents! I love watching him toodle around from person to person, trying to take it all in.
8:30 a.m. The cinnamon rolls come out of the oven and we all enjoy this yearly indulgence. I read the Christmas story since everyone is still, and my sister-in-law and I both try to ask the kids thought provoking questions. It doesn’t work, but I’m glad we tried.
9:30 a.m. Twin B. opens a pirates of the carribean dart gun from his Aunt and Uncle. “THANK. YOU.” He tells them. Clearly, this is the favorite of the year. (Yes. I’ve given up my non-violent toy stance. It simply doesn’t matter. The boys were building guns out of Tinker Toys, people.)
11 a.m. We’ve managed to open all of the presents, except a few left for baby b. He’s busy playing with his brother's slinky and has no interest in opening more boxes. I’m beyond grateful for family who understands the nature of an overstimulated one-year old and the fact that nobody insists he open more gifts.
12:01 p.m. More food. We snack our way through the afternoon while baby b. naps.
The cousins play, the grown-ups visit, we all have a turn on the wii. The afternoon is a blur of play and naps and newspapers and conversation.
5:00 p.m. We sit down for a nice dinner, and I’m grateful for the family that gathers here. Half of us are still in pajamas, which is a beautiful thing. The food is a pot-luck of family favorites, and I’m grateful for family that pitches in and brings stuff when the party is at my house. Even more, I’m grateful for the clean-up help.
6:30 p.m. My sister-in-law makes chocolate fondue. Oh. My. What a way to end a party!
Last night on the way home from our favorite chinese restaurant:
Twin B: Santa Claus isn’t real. He’s just for pretend.
Twin A: No! He’s real, B! Remember we left those cookies and in the morning, they were all gone!
Twin B: Maybe it’s somebody’s job to sneak into people’s houses at night and eat all of those cookies.
I love that nobody even considered the fact that maybe Mom might eat the cookies. Just maybe.
5:30 p.m. Grandma and Grandpa arrive with their overnight bags and join us for a bowl of soup. A few of my friends have told me how strange it is that my husband’s family (who all live about five minutes away) all spend the night on Christmas Eve. But it feels normal to us, to all wake up together on Christmas morning. And so the tradition continues and we all take turns hosting the party.
9 p.m. My husband’s sister and her family arrive. I tuck my nieces into their bed on the floor of the office.
until 11 p.m. The house is full of Christmas magic as stockings are stuffed and toys are put together. We all have way too much fun trying out the wii that Santa leaves for the noisy boys.
11 p.m. My sister-in-law is impressed with the cute Christmas basket I left on her bed. A few bottles of water, chocolates, tissues, and a flashlight. Of course, they’re sleeping on a pull-out futon in the basement, with boxes of stuff lining the walls. She is sweet to notice the basket instead of the stuff.
2 a.m. “Mom! Mom! My tummy hurts,” a too-hot Twin A. crawls into my bed. I go downstairs to get the children’s tylenol, and give him a dose.
“Did Santa come yet?” he asks.
“I wasn’t paying attention. I was too worried about you,” I tell him.
He cuddles up with his Dad and I move into his bedroom.
7:03 a.m. I hear stirring downstairs, but see that Twin B. is still snoozing. Suddenly, he sits upright and moves his curtain. “YES!” he shouts when the light comes in. Like a bolt of lightning, he runs to his door. I am glad I got to see this. And, thankfully, Twin A’s fever never comes back.
7:15 a.m. Wii.
8:00 a.m. The look on baby b.’s face is priceless. He woke up today with no expectations, and suddenly, there’s a party at his house! With presents! I love watching him toodle around from person to person, trying to take it all in.
8:30 a.m. The cinnamon rolls come out of the oven and we all enjoy this yearly indulgence. I read the Christmas story since everyone is still, and my sister-in-law and I both try to ask the kids thought provoking questions. It doesn’t work, but I’m glad we tried.
9:30 a.m. Twin B. opens a pirates of the carribean dart gun from his Aunt and Uncle. “THANK. YOU.” He tells them. Clearly, this is the favorite of the year. (Yes. I’ve given up my non-violent toy stance. It simply doesn’t matter. The boys were building guns out of Tinker Toys, people.)
11 a.m. We’ve managed to open all of the presents, except a few left for baby b. He’s busy playing with his brother's slinky and has no interest in opening more boxes. I’m beyond grateful for family who understands the nature of an overstimulated one-year old and the fact that nobody insists he open more gifts.
12:01 p.m. More food. We snack our way through the afternoon while baby b. naps.
The cousins play, the grown-ups visit, we all have a turn on the wii. The afternoon is a blur of play and naps and newspapers and conversation.
5:00 p.m. We sit down for a nice dinner, and I’m grateful for the family that gathers here. Half of us are still in pajamas, which is a beautiful thing. The food is a pot-luck of family favorites, and I’m grateful for family that pitches in and brings stuff when the party is at my house. Even more, I’m grateful for the clean-up help.
6:30 p.m. My sister-in-law makes chocolate fondue. Oh. My. What a way to end a party!
Last night on the way home from our favorite chinese restaurant:
Twin B: Santa Claus isn’t real. He’s just for pretend.
Twin A: No! He’s real, B! Remember we left those cookies and in the morning, they were all gone!
Twin B: Maybe it’s somebody’s job to sneak into people’s houses at night and eat all of those cookies.
I love that nobody even considered the fact that maybe Mom might eat the cookies. Just maybe.
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