I barely took any pictures this week. This is getting old. At the same time, I can tell we’re settling in. This week was supposed to be our spring break. We didn’t have any huge plans, just some loose talks about a day trip that never even had time to take shape before the quarantine
We celebrated two friends’ birthdays this week. They were both distant celebrations — gifts left in the driveway, and a drive-by “party.” My kids liked loved being a part of these celebrations, but they made the wheels start turning. “I’m glad my birthday is in the summer…” I heard someone say from the backseat on
Remember a week ago, when our kids were in school and we were carrying on with reckless behavior, like chatting over coffee or holding the door for strangers. Everything has changed, and in the past week the nation has quietly walked inside and closed their doors. (And then there are people who aren’t staying home.
Anna calls David “DayDay.” She calls Mary “MayMay.” She calls Brigham “Ma,” and she knows the names of several neighborhood dogs. In an ultimate little sister power move, she doesn’t even attempt to say Thomas’s name. There are actually a lot of words Anna doesn’t attempt. She has a decent vocabulary, but she’s almost impossible
Yesterday Anna, my 22-month old, was throwing a tantrum. She threw herself onto the floor, curled her body over her knees with her forehead pressed to the carpet, and wailed. “Look!” Mary exclaimed. “Anna is doing a lockdown drill!” David and Mary laughed and laughed at the absurdity of a lockdown drill! At home! Ha!
When I first heard the Bible’s story of Anna the prophetess, I was moved to tears. A life of faithfulness, devoted to worship, proclaiming the name of Jesus. I imagine reading the verses to my daughter one day, telling her, “This is the story of Anna, whose life of faith pointed to the faithful One.