UCLA Visit

Well, we finally got to see Aaron yesterday. Lisa and I went up to the tenth floor with Rose (Aaron's sister), while the kids played on the lawn at Christopher's third birthday party. The whole room was plastered with bright posters of scripture, notes from friends, and cartoons of Aaron's reactions to drugs.

What shocked me when I saw him was the lack of tubes. Excepting the trach, he was completely wireless. He had only just returned from an MRI and a short walk to the fridge across from his bed, allowed by his father-in-law in Natalie's absence. We left after a few minutes so they could reattach the I.V. (It wasn't the long, friendly visit I had imagined.)

He seemed a little shaky, but otherwise, he was Aaron. Blond, but still Aaron. How miraculous is that?

Soon the trach will be completely gone. He might even go home for a while before the next chemo onslaught.

It's hard fit that much of a turnaround in your head. Seeing it made me ashamed of the doubts that crept into my prayer times these last six weeks. I never doubted God's ability to heal, but I certainly doubted His willingness now and then. He proved me gloriously wrong.

There is a growing number of people whose faith has been strengthened by Natalie's faith. She looked so triumphant at the party. God fought her battles for her and she won. I can't wait to see what more God will do with them.

Speculation III

Sarah: Do you want to know who I'm going to marry?

Jonah: Me!

Sarah: No. Me! I want to marry myself.

Papa smiled.

Jesus Loves Me

Jonah started singing today at VBS:

Yes, Jesus loves Jonah!

Yes, Jesus loves Mommy!

Yes, Jesus loves Larry Boy!

The Bible tells me so.

Praise!

Aaron's bone marrow biopsy results are finally in, and there is NO leukemia. Isn't God incredible? Please keep praying for his complete healing, and for the kids (Michaela and Chris) who miss mom and dad a lot.

Home

This morning in the Ojai church, and last night in Ventura, my thoughts kept returning to the new church up in the mountains, to Jason and Jason teaching, the worship band playing, the kids running wild. And for the first time, I didn't feel completely at home sitting in those familiar pews among those familiar faces. I felt like I was missing something important.

I've never felt like that before. Even when we moved away for years at a time, coming to Ojai was always coming home, especially to the church here.

It's a good feeling to be so invested in something that it becomes your new life and home. I never expected to love another church family as much as my Ojai family. God does amazing things.

Speculation, Continued

Anna: I think I'm still going to marry Alex (five year old friend).

Sarah: But, Sissy, what if he's too tough to get married?

Anna: It's okay if he's tough. When he's a daddy he won't be tough anymore.

Happy Day

After an afternoon in the inflatable pool, an evening at the mall, and a nighttime trip to Libbey Park, we climbed back in the van.

Somewhere in the middle of the girls' chatter and Naiah's babble, Jonah said, "I'm happy."

Twelve Hour Drive

Well, we left yesterday morning at 7:30 a.m., which is a record for me, and arrived in Ojai at 7:30 p.m. The kids were incredible. We only stopped three times, and once was only to check the van engine. We had borrowed a DVD player for the trip, but it wouldn't work. So they listened to the radio and tapes and played and sang. They were SO GOOD.

Now they're out back playing in a blow-up pool with Grammie and Papa, and Naiah is napping.

Jonah spotted Papa's truck in the parking lot this morning. He was quite pleased to see it again. Papa said, "That's a big truck, huh, Jonah?"

"Yes," said Jonah. "That's mine and yours truck."

Praise God!

Aaron is finally out of ICU! So many miracles had to happen for this to come about. Thanks so much for joining us in prayer. Please keep praying for Aaron's complete healing, and for strength for Natalie and Anne as they watch over him on the tenth floor.

Happy Birthday, Naiah!

This was how I met you:

One year ago last night, my water broke, but only a little bit.

So Grammie and Papa and Daddy and I stopped at In and Out for dinner, on the way to the birth center.

You weren't in much of a hurry to get out.

When we arrived, the midwife made us comfortable and ordered some drugs to get things moving. She made sure the epidural worked first, though. We liked her.

Two hours later, it was time for you to come out, five minutes before midnight, June 20th.

I didn't like June 20th for a birthdate.

So we waited five minutes, and out you came.

You were pretty upset about it.

You cried for 24 hours straight, except for the hours when you were latched on for dear life.

Your Grammie was sure you wouldn't wail like that forever, but I wasn't convinced.

Turns out she was right, of course. You were a sweet, quiet newborn, as long as you had Mama.

I liked that about you-- that you liked me.

It felt like you were really mine.

Now you're one year old, trying to walk, wanting your own way all the time.

But I still like you.

Happy Birthday, baby.

The Toothbrush Tango

Sarah: (holding up a yellow toothbrush) Can we brush our teeth now?

Jonah: That's MY toothbrush!

Sarah: Oh.

Jonah: You can have it.

Sarah: Can we brush our teeth now?

Jonah: (singing) Do the toothbrush tango! (dances with his toothbrush)

Dirt

Jonah sat next to me on the grass. His mouth was black with mud. "Jonah," I said. "Have you been eating dirt?"

"No."

"What have you been eating?"

"Dirt. Clean dirt."

Speculation

Sarah: I wonder what I'm going to marry.

Me: Won't you marry a boy?

Sarah: I have to marry a boy who's a friend. . . a friend. . . a friend. . . Hey! Maybe I could marry Brandon (eight-year-old friend).

Me: Do you think so?

Sarah: Well, Sissy wants to marry Alex (Brandon's five-year-old brother), but he's too tough for that.

Me: Oh.

Sarah: Is Brandon too tough?

Me: I don't know.

Sarah: Well, if Sissy marries Alex, maybe I'll marry Brandon.

Picnic in the Park

We attended a picnic today at a small-town park in a wooded valley. It felt like home, to be there with the sweet people from our sponsor church, hemmed in by mountains, shaded by old conifers, eating too much.

Here are a few highlights:

• Jason wore a new t-shirt that read, "Big Dude," in fat, block letters. Jonah's said, "Little Dude."

• Sarah crossed the seven-feet-high, big-kid monkey bars all by herself. Anna was not to be outdone, and followed suit.

• Naiah ate large chunks of watermelon rind.

• Jonah took a bath in a mud puddle by the water fountain. He did not undress.

• The girls ate fruit kebabs for the first time. They found the concept of fruit on a stick brilliant. I found the concept of pointed sticks waving about near their eyes somewhat unsettling.

• Naiah stole a cookie from Sarah.

• Jason played horseshoes.

• Naiah ate cake off the ground.

• Sarah turned on the water spigot, and Jonah took a shower. He did not undress.

• Naiah found a dog to bark at.

• A sweet lady reminded me what a rare blessing Jason's job is, especially around here.

• Jonah rolled in the sand pit. He was still wet.

• I honestly didn't mind, not one iota.
  

I hope your Father's Day was as pleasant as ours!

Two-Year-Old Capitalist

Jason arrived home for dinner.

Jonah greeted him, "Daddy? Are you home?"

"Yeah."

"Did you go to work?"

"Yep."

"Did you got money?"

"Um. . ."

Woof!

When Naiah finds me at the computer, she climbs into my lap. She points at the monitor and says, "Woof, oof! Woof, oof!" persistantly, until I google this:


Then she applauds and woofs some more. Her words may be few, but she knows how to use them.

Amalgam

Well, I pieced that quilt the other day. I never yelled at my sewing machine-- not once! And I didn't make any big mistakes. Maybe, just maybe, I'm learning.

Today is our sixth wedding anniversary. We haven't really celebrated an anniversary since the first one, so I'm not too disappointed that we aren't doing anything this year. There is too much happening this weekend to even think much about it: finishing the quilt in time for the party, baking, preparing for the Father's Day picnic, planning Naiah's first birthday (Next Wednesday! I'm still in denial.), and packing for the trip to Ojai.

Besides all the hoopla, my head is jam-packed with all the things I've been asking God to sort out lately, mostly concerning what the heck I'm supposed to be doing with my life, and how the heck I'm supposed to keep in step with Him. While I quilt, I've been catching up on the last few weeks of John Piper's sermons. The "Live to Die" series, along with the "Finishing" series have been clearing up a lot of cloudy issues for me-- issues that were clear when I was 17, but got distorted beyond recognition along the way. I can't tell you how excited I am that these basics of faith are forcing their way back into my life.

Please Pray

Hector has been at the ICU with Aaron these last few weeks. He has the same type of leukemia that Aaron has, and is a few years younger. The two families have been praying together and supporting each other through this ordeal. Hector died yesterday. Please pray for comfort and peace for Hector's mom and family, and pray for encouragement for the Boydston's as they watch and pray.

Aaron Update

Aaron's still in ICU. His condition fluctuates daily. Despite everything, he's still got his sense of humor. Check up on Tuesday's report at www.aaronboydston.com, and keep praying!

Anna on Parenting

"Naiah is not a little baby anymore," Anna said.

"No," I agreed. "She's almost a toddler. I wish she didn't have to grow up so quickly."

"Well, you keep feeding her!" said Anna. "Feeding her makes her grow up!"

"Oh, so you think we should stop feeding her?"

"No," she said. "If you don't feed her, she might cry. A lot."

Jonah and the E.R.

Sometimes he frightens me. I've just finished cooking, when I hear a bang and a scream upstairs. I run to find him. He's picking himself up from the floor. Blood drips from his face, smeared on his hands and soaking his shirt. I wipe him off with wet paper towels, searching for a cut. It's under his chin. I see the bone. He complains about the wiping and seems to have forgotten that he's bleeding on himself.

I pass the baby to Jason, pack Jonah in the van, and drive to the emergency room, twelve miles away. While we ride, he tells me about the rivers we pass, and asks to go to the beach.

I carry him into the E.R.; I forgot his shoes at home. The receptionist takes one look at him, covered in blood, and pages the nurse. She walks us to triage. The nurse asks him questions, takes his temperature, heartbeat. He sighs patiently. She asks, "Do you have an owie?"

"Yes."

"Does your owie hurt?"

"Yep." He grins at her.

"Does it really hurt?"

"Yep." He grins again.

"I'm going to write 'no' on that one," she says.

I fill out paperwork. Jonah watches cartoons. The nurse calls us to a room down the hall. She applies topical anesthetic. The wound gapes even wider than before.

Jonah colors an activity book. The book tells a story about Timmy the Dinosaur, who has to go to the hospital for a bad cut. Timmy is scared of the doctors and the machines. I don't think Jonah can relate. He pretends the exam light is a giant monster in the corner.

The doctor arrives with his suture kit. He asks Jonah to lie back, with a towel rolled up under his neck. Two nurses hold Jonah's arms on either side. They inject a little more anesthetic into the cut. The doctor places a paper sheet over Jonah's face. He asks Jonah to be very still.

The boy doesn't flinch. The nurses slowly release his arms as they realize that he's not struggling. The doctor ties a stitch, then another, and another, and another, and another. All we hear from Jonah is a deep sigh now and then. The nurses keep asking how old he is. They giggle when he sighs like we're boring him. The doctor remarks, "This is easier than an adult!"

Finally, the sixth stitch is knotted and cut. We all cheer for Jonah. The nurses marvel at how quiet and brave he is. The doctor removes the sheet from his face. Everyone gasps. The boy is asleep.

Like I said, sometimes, he frightens me.

The Tragedy of Buttercup the Cow

At bedtime, I read to Jonah one of the girls' Lightning Reader books, called Buttercup the Clumsy Cow.

Buttercup went for a walk. She met a hen. "Hello," said the hen. Buttercup tripped. She fell onto the nest. (pages 3-6)

Jonah: Did Buttercup die?

Me: No.

Jonah: Did the duck die?

Me: No. That's a chicken.

I read quickly to the big finish.

"Help!" cried the hens. Buttercup tripped. She fell on top of a fox. "Buttercup saved the day!" said the farmer. (pages 15-17)

Jonah: Is the fox scary?

Me: No, Buttercup squished him.

Jonah: Did the fox eat the chickens?

Me: Well, sometimes. . . I think it's time for bed.

Jonah: Did the fox die?

The end.

_____ Juice

The first words out of Jonah's mouth this morning: "Mommy, can I have some crap juice?"

"What?"

"May I have some crap juice, please?"

"What?"

Sarah explained, "Last night when you were gone, Daddy made us grapple juice. It's where you mix up apple juice and grape juice."

"Please, can I have some crapple juice?" said Jonah.

The Talking Duck

Anna: Last night I dreamed that Sissy and Daddy had a giant refrigilator, and they had a giant duck for a pet! Mommy and me just had a regular refrigilator and a regular duck. But the duck and the refrigilator could talk!

Sarah: Did the duck talk like this: (robotic voice) "Quack, quack! Quack, quack! Quack, quack!"?

Anna: No. It was like--

Sarah: Like this: "Nagh, nagh! Nagh, nagh! Nagh, nagh!"

Anna: No, Sissy! Even refrigilators don't even say, "Refrigilator! Refrigilator! Refrigilator! Refrigilator!" They just make regular sounds. So in my dream they just talked regular.

Sarah: Like this: "Agh, agh! Agh, agh! Agh, agh!"

(Anna huffs and walks away.)

Appreciation

Naiah is eleven months old.
She doesn't talk much.
But lately, when she's done nursing, she applauds.

Wonder Boy

Jonah is two years, nine months, and thirteen days old. For the last nine months and thirteen days, we have been gently encouraging him to use the potty. Every once in a while, he would humor us by sitting on it, jumping down, flushing, and shouting, "I did it!" before running off to play.

Yet he refused to actually use the potty. We were sure that he understood the concept. He watched his sisters and his dad do it all the time. He told us when he was about to use his diaper. But when we asked him to move the operation to the bathroom, he politely declined.

Then, a few mornings ago, on his own initiative, he took off his diaper and used the potty. We got excited and praised him, and put on a new diaper. He kept it clean all day. So we put underwear on him. He kept that clean too. Today he went without a diaper all day long, except naptime and bedtime.

No coaxing, no bribing, not much fanfare. He just decided it was time to grow up.

Where was I?

Sibling Love

I was looking at scooters online for Jonah's birthday (coming up in August). Sarah watched me shop for a minute.

"I know what we should give Jonah for his birthday," she said.

"Really? What?"

"A new library book."

Lunch

Anna and Sarah, eating their sandwiches.

Anna's Sandwich: Hello, my name is Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich. Um, well, actually, it's just Sandwich. What's your name, grown-up?

Me: I don't talk to strangers.

A.S.: Oh, I'm not a stranger. My name is Sandwich.

Sarah's Sandwich: Her name is Mommy.

A.S.: Oh. Aaaaagh! (bite) Actually, it doesn't hurt, because I'm a sandwich. I still be alive when people are eating me.

S.S.: Me too! Hey, we're both girls, so we should be friends!

A.S.: Well, actually, I'm a boy sandwich, so we should get married.

S.S.: Okay. Da dump da dummm, da dump da dummm. . . (bite)

A.S.: Hey, we should get married in here! (bite)

S.S.: Okay! (bite)

A.S.: Hey! Where'd she go? Oh well. (bite)

Prayer Update

Thanks for praying! Aaron had a really good day today. They let him come out of sedation enough to smile at Natalie a lot, and he breathed on his own for three hours with the tracheal tube. Please pray that God would heal him completely, and that he would be able to go home soon before the next round of chemo. Thanks so much!

Who Are You?

Jonah has become obsessed with strangers lately. Everywhere we go, I find myself blushing, as he shouts at each person we pass, "Who are you?" or "I'm Jonah!" Some people are kind and forgiving and answer him. Others just keep walking, as if they didn't hear anything, which is what I would do.

Today at the playground, it was a bit more embarrassing than usual. A little blonde girl started climbing the steps to the slide. He pointed at her, and asked her mother, "What is that?"

"My daughter." she replied, not too kindly.

"Yours daughter?" he mumbled, intimidated by her demeanor.

I stepped into the conversation. "Jonah, you need to say, 'Who is that?' or, 'What's her name?' It's not nice to say, 'What is that?'"

"Oh," said Jonah.

By this time, the little blonde girl was screeching and pitching a fit because she didn't know how to climb down the steps, and she refused to tolerate her mother's attempts to help.

Jonah sighed. The slide was inaccessible. Suddenly, the little blonde girl didn't seem so interesting.

Maggie on Nursing a Newborn

Our five-year-old friend, Maggie, came to visit today. I asked her if she likes her brand new baby sister.

"Yes!" said Maggie. "She's handling everything very, very well! Except for eating. She doesn't really eat. I don't think she's handling that very well."

Michaela

Please continue to pray fervently for Aaron's healing. The doctors suspect he has internal bleeding, on top of the leakage from his capillaries all over his body. They tried to move him downstairs for a scan Saturday, to locate the bleeding, but his blood pressure dropped so severely that they couldn't move him. Please pray they can locate the problem and correct it, and that God would heal him miraculously and completely. All of Ojai and many other communities are watching and praying.

Aaron's daughter is five. Her name is Michaela. She misses Daddy, and doesn't see much of Mommy these days either. A friend at school told her that Aaron might die, which upset her very much. But Michaela holds that God will fix her daddy soon. Please pray that God moves on her behalf, as well as Natalie's and Christopher's and their family and friends.

Living Vicariously

My good friend had a baby yesterday. A huge, beautiful, girl baby, at home, in the water. Jenn is now my hero.

I was literally jumping for joy yesterday when I heard. I was so terribly excited, and I had no idea why. I'm not related to Jenn or the baby. Honestly, it really doesn't have that much to do with me. But I was unspeakably thrilled with the whole thing and couldn't wait to see her and the baby and hear all the details.

I rationalized my excitement with the theory that (besides being thrilled for a good friend's good fortune) somewhere deep down, there's something in me that still craves multiplication. Somehow, despite my brain's objections that I want to be done with childbearing, some part of me must want more.

Then, late last night, I proved myself wrong. Despite all our meticulous precautions, we discovered a birth control malfunction, completely beyond our control and irreversible, and on a fertile day.

And you know what I did? I panicked.

PANICKED.

Now, I am not a girl who panics. In Venezuela, at the age of 15, men pointed handguns in my face and waved them around behind my head, and I didn't panic. I sat there, forcing myself to play the sound of a gun shot over and over in my mind, so that if a real shot sounded, I wouldn't flinch. I sat there, calmly deciding whether I should let on that I understood those men, shouting at us in Spanish to put our hands on the table, while our hands were in the air. I sat there, knowing that if I lived, I lived, and if I died, I lived, and that living or dying God was in control and would not fail me.

Yet last night, in the safety of our home, when my attempts at planning and prevention and 'responsibility' (as society likes to call it) failed me, I panicked. I was not in control of my life, even though I was trying so hard to control it. I wanted so much to control it. But I can't. There is nothing I can do to absolutely guarantee that my family will remain the size it is.

So why do I try? I guess I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else, beyond doubt, that it is God, not my lack of decision and action, who gives me my children, however many they may be, just as it was God who decided eleven years ago that I should live to marry Jason and bear children and help plant a church in a needy, nowhere town. It was Him.

After Naiah was born, I felt right about making a decision to use safe, non-hormonal birth control. It was like stating a preference. It was like saying, "God, I would really like to have these four children, and no more. But if you choose otherwise, at least I'll know it was your hand overreaching mine."

But last night, all I could think was, I failed.

That's wrong.

If I'm pregnant, God wanted me to be pregnant.

If I'm not pregnant, God prevented it.

And that's how it has been all along.

Where Kerr Babies Come From

The following took place yesterday evening. Therefore, a few details of the conversation may have mutated as they replayed in my head. I'm saying this now, so Jason can't come in later and tell me he didn't say exactly this or that. This is my version of the story. Mine. Ha!


After dinner, I started to read birth stories again on the internet. (No, I'm not pregnant.)

Jason: "Would you stop that? You're driving me nuts."

Me: "What?"

Jason: "You keep reading that birth stuff. Stop it!"

Me: "I'm reading silently. What does it have to do with you?"

He pointed in the general direction of our four offspring.

Me: "What?"

Jason: "When you read that, you get pregnant."

Me: "I don't think that's quite how it works."

Jason: "Oh yeah? Don't you remember how you used to watch all that birth stuff on TV before the girls and Jonah?"

Me: "I hardly think it's related."

Jason: "It makes you WANT to be pregnant. When you WANT to be pregnant, you get pregnant."

Me: "I do not WANT to be pregnant. Besides, this isn't so much about birth. It's about deviant social behavior. It's revolutionary cultural stuff. I'm not even reading for the birth stuff."

He sighed and sat down with some Robert Frost stuff. Stuff. Okay, I'm done with the stuff.

But I couldn't help wondering if he was right. I mean, I really did obsess about birth before the twins were even conceived. I inundated my mind constantly with images and books and facts.

I had to ask myself, Do I want to be pregnant?

No, I don't. Really. I don't.

Well, maybe just a liiiiiiiiittle bit.

But I don't want another baby.

Very different wants: pregnancy vs. baby.

Nope. Not gonna do it. Na-uh. No way.

Okay, this is making me hyperventilate. No more. Stop it.

Okay, I'm done.

I just need to repeat the magic word:

Triplets, triplets, triplets. . .

Two Songs

The Song of the Girl
By Sarah, age 4

This is the song of the girl:
Once there was a little girl,
and she had no food in the house.
So she went to the grocery store.
Oh, what a scary thing!
She saw a lion and a tiger and a bear.
And they started chasing her,
because they wanted to eat her.
(She didn't know it was a mean animal grocery store.)
So she payed really quickly.
The paying lady started to eat her,
but the girl ran away really, really, really fast.
The mean animals chased her out of the store.
Oh, what a super thing!
She found a superhero.
He was flying, and he looked down,
and he saw the girl,
and the mean animals tried to eat her.
So he flew down and--
Oh, what a strong thing!--
he caught the girl and flew away with her.
Then he caught the mean animals.
He put the mean animals in jail.
Then he flew away and found a giant.
Oh, what a giant thing!
And he picked up the giant
and flew the giant to the jail
and made the giant step on the mean animals.
Then he flew the girl home,
and she told him where she lived,
and he found her house.
Oh, what a smart thing!

The End

Song of the Man
By Anna, age 4

Once upon a time,
there was a little man.
His name was Jonah.
Jonah had nothing to do.
So he found some toys,
and he played with the toys.
Then he got tired.
What could he sleep on?
He went to the bed store.
He found a bed,
and he put the bed on the paying thing.
He gave the payer people
one hundred of thousands of money.
Then he took the bed home.
He decided to take a nap on the bed,
to see if it fit him.
It did fit him a little bit,
and he fell fast asleep.
Then he woke up and goed to church.
(It was night time church.)
Then he came home and went to sleep.

The End

Jonah, Two-Year-Old Squirrel

We finally got gates for the fence yesterday, which means the yard is now escape-proof (until the monkeys figure out how to climb to the top and unhook the latch). So today, for the first time, I sent the kids out to play all by themselves.

Lovely feeling, really. It was so 1950's. "Children, children! Go outside and play this instant! Soak up sunshine! Build forts! Throw dirt! Leave me to my peaceful kitchen, while the baby takes incredibly long naps in the silent house." (I don't really talk like that, but it was a nice thought.)

So I spent the morning alone in a quiet house. Wow. You would think this would inspire me to accomplish great and mighty deeds of creativity and cleanliness. But mostly I read long birth stories on the internet. (No, I'm not pregnant.)

Shortly after Naiah woke up, I heard Jonah yelling in the yard. I waited to see if he would stop on his own, but he persisted. Finally I took the baby outside to see what he was doing. I couldn't find him. Somewhere near the shed, he was shouting, "I am NOT having tea! I am having a TEA PARTY!"

Then I noticed that the lilac bush-- the twelve-feet-tall, twelve-feet-thick tangle of limbs and trunks and leaves and blossoms-- was shaking violently. I looked up.

Ten feet from the ground, half-hidden by a mass of lilac leaves, I spotted the yellow of Jonah's shirt. He was standing-- not sitting-- on a limb less than one and a half inches thick, near the top of the bush, bouncing, and ranting about his tea party.

The bush was so dense and tangled, there was no way to get under him. So I put the baby down and came as close as I could. The limb he was standing on kept bending and springing back, and showed no signs of breaking, thankfully. "Jonah!" I said, "You come down from there!"

I had no idea how he could do it, as most of the branches grew vertically, and there weren't many footholds that I could see. I only hoped he would figure it out, since he obviously figured out the way UP.

He didn't even consider going back the way he came. Instead, he did something out of Tarzan (the Disney/Surfer version), and slid on his feet-- his bare feet!-- all the way down the branch, then down another tangle of branches and landed on his bottom.

"What is it, Mommy?" he said, apparently unfazed.

"What on earth were you doing up there?"

"I was having a tea party."

"Okay. . ." I said, lacking a better comeback. What to say? What?

The bush was unharmed. The boy was fine. Should I forbid him to climb? I used to climb trees when I was little. . . and big. And this wasn't even a tree, really, just an overgrown bush that seemed pliable and safe enough. Then again, I never stood at the top of a tree. Nor did I ever slide down from limb to limb on my feet. Who is this kid?

"Well. . . Don't yell," I said, and left him to tree-surf in peace.

Pray for Aaron

Aaron (recently diagnosed with AML, an aggressive form of Leukemia) has a high fever again. Please pray that the fever would disappear, and that he would be able to heal from the chemo. Pray that God miraculously heals his body and shows the doctors who He is.

Counting Kix

Jonah counted the cereal in his bowl. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, twelve, eleven, X!"