As lots of readers know, because of circumstances we would have never chosen in a million years, three of our grandchildren have moved to our street. We praise God that they are nearby and thank so many for frequent prayers in their behalf. They are wonderful and all we want is exactly whatever is best for them now, but mostly heaven for them one day! So now…
Everytime there’s a van in my driveway, no matter how short a time it’s there, there’s at least one straw paper in the edge of my yard.
The rock column beside my front gate has become a return receptacle, for crock-pots, books, packages of construction paper, casserole dishes and all miscellaneous borrowed toys.
There’s always an extra scooter, little red wagon, bike or soccer ball in the yard. (only two times this summer have we run over a stray scooter.)
There are helmets—helmets everywhere.
When I bump something in the night. it often starts singing loudly.
There’s almost always a half-finished sippy cup in the pack-and-play and a half-finished soda in the window beside the “special bed.”
I have counted many fireflies and all my jar lids now have ice-pick holes poked in them.
Nerf bullets are in the tub, the yard, the bed and, now and then, the soup.
I have learned proper care for a pet crawdad.
My joy jar (reward stash) needs replenishing all the time (a good thing).
There’s a perpetual monopoly game in progress on the coffee table and I have never heard so much monopoly trash-talk.
I have purchased a lot of pretend ice-cream cones from a pretend ice-cream store.
I rejoice when I am playing house and the game-boss says “Ok…bedtime.” …only to learn that “bedtime” lasts all of 3.5 seconds in the play house.
I have learned that army men in the fort secretly enjoy eating goldfish (and they leave their wrappers.)
I know exactly how long it takes to scooter from 234 to 221 on my street and I am often outside watching over the rise in the road to be sure the time lapse has never been exceeded. Another adult is watching from the other direction.
Someone asks me to throw superfluous junk mail away, as she leaves the driveway. I take the mail from her car and throw away the junk mail, just on top of the exact same political and store flyers I just threw away from my own mailbox.
I have listened to 12980 pages of Garfield books that I already listened to 30 years ago.
I have relearned that Polly Pocket pieces are almost as painful as Legos are in the middle of the night.
My refrigerator door is packed again with Zarbees, Kids’ Tylenol, sippy cups and half eaten lollipops. (Occasional super-heroes, too.)
I often depend on someone who is 6 or 8 to translate for some one who is three. (But I’m getting better at that native tongue.)
My kitchen door surely must revolve…and, these days, I need to lock it, or I will be suddenly startled out of my wits. My pantry doubles as the corner market for little people. And I have to sometimes limit the coins taken from the stone crock for the gumboil machine.
Alexa is getting all kinds of new music commands, my jewelry is tangled, there are bubble blowers and water guns all over the front garden. A roll of toilet paper is used up magic-fast and Sunday lunch is an event. But my house is very quiet and my heart has a hole somewhere deep when the kitchen screen door slams for the last time as they leave town for a little while. 
Life is different. Days are long, nights are short and blueberries at the bottom of the bush have lots of “pickers.”
Life is different. Digging Deep really has to vie for my time now. It’s harder to prep for lessons. Time alone is a thing of the past. Time with God’s people is a huge blessing…worth lots of effort. God is good. I could not do it without Him!
Last week I heard a heartwarming story about the conversion of a young teen girl whose life had gone awry following the death of her father and a subsequent downward emotional spiral. Her heart was convicted in a dark and powerless room during a hurricane disaster relief effort by Christians from Decatur, Alabama and middle Tennessee who were ministering in emergency mode on the coast of Florida. Studying with this young woman by flashlights directed at their Bibles, these Christians changed her life for the good and they changed it for good! So there she was, last week, at Camp Moriah in Winchester, Tennessee, hundreds of miles from home. She even brought a mentor from her home church in Florida, or rather the mentor brought her. This young married mentor just may have needed the spiritual breath of fresh air more than even the camper did.
I watched intently as women who had given up all other activities for the week, poured themselves into young women who can make homes and enable good elderships of the future, who can make the congregations they will touch stronger for souls within and for evangelism without. I watched women spend all kinds of hours in that kitchen, preparing great (best camp food ever) meals for fifty women with camp appetites.
tongues held at the right times and words seasoned with grace when needed.
He’s my refuge, sword and buckler
You have kept count of my tossings;
Some have found the descriptions (names or titles) of God and responses to those characterizations in month 3 challenging (#6 in the study guide). Perhaps my instructions were not clear, so here area couple of 
So said Ezra, age five. As we were tromping through the old cemetery beside our house, he was asking about the people buried there. “Were these people Christians?”
Later in the week we watched that classic old Disney movie together: Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier. He listened intently to a line taken from the ten commandments and another phrase repeated throughout the movie: “I make sure I’m right, and if I am right, then I go ahead.”