Last week we ran into a friend who had her new baby along. She talked about her little one with such sweet wonder and delight. I caught myself start to do what I hate when people do to me - feel the need to shatter that joy with stories of the havoc this little one would soon bring upon her life. "Oh, just wait until he can talk back!" And, "At least he's portable now. Wait until you're stuck in the house at night constrained by his bedtime." And a personal favorite, "You feel that way now, but wait until you have two (or three or four)!" But thankfully, those unhelpful and mean-spirited words didn't make it out of my mouth. Instead, I decided to let this new mom instruct me. After all, when was the last time I looked at my kids with wonder like she did hers? Well, honestly I look at them in wonder a lot. Like wondering, "Are you really a fellow human? I know your DNA says you are, but honestly your actions are tipping the scale in favor of your being part of the animal kingdom about now." And astonishment like, "Did you really just tell your Dad in an extremely loud voice that the lady standing two feet away from us has a big nose?!"
Stella - Our Information Gatherer and Passer of Judgments
Ruby - Our Determined Advocate

Schaeffer - Our Enforcer, Instigator, and Unmistakably Third Born
You "wash" her hair and yours with hand sanitizer when you're supposed to be brushing your teeth. (I think she likes being along for the ride of your instigation. Guilt by association seems a much safer option to her than direct disobedience.)
You endure all the confusion of being the third born like a champ. Like my still desperately wanting you to be a baby in some ways and treating you as such and yet simultaneously demanding you exercise your independence. Like "Don't you want Mommy to hold you?" and then "Mommy's not holding you! You're old enough to walk!" And my talking to you a lot about going potty but lacking motivation to actually equip you with the skills. So your sisters (one appauled at the dirty diapers and passing judgment on an incapable mom and the other advocating for your right to wear your Thomas big boy undies) have become much more serious about the effort - even making you your own sticker chart and reward system. As the third born, I'm counting on your absorbing a lot of information just by exposure (I just don't have time to intentionally teach you everything I'd like) and you have risen to the occasion. We can't help but crack up at the motions you know to the historical timeline the girls have memorized. You know George Washington was our first President, winter at Valley Forge was cold, John Knox was a Scottish Reformer, Martin Luther started the Reformation, and the US purchased Louisiana from France. You identify every boat as the Dawn Treader and every lion as Aslan. And, on some rare occasions, you even give me hope that you are learning to obey and won't always be controlled by your horridly destructive impulsiveness.
I really don't want to lose the wonder of these kids as I wander with them through life. I pray God will use their personalities and affinities and aversions to make them a gospel-driven force to be reckoned with. I wonder what they'll become. I wonder. But God knows.
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him." I Corinthians 2:9





































