Let The Little Children Come

A lot of folks look at me a bit odd when I tell them that I learn just as much from the three kids as they learn from me. But it is so very true.

Nancy Caroline teaches me to notice the details, pay attention to the small things in life.  She teaches me to do everything I do 150%...because that is what she does. One of my favorite things I have learned from her as of late is worry and fear are choices you make. These things can be overcome. This child is wise beyond her years.

Sadie teaches me to be silly, even in the most serious of situations. Being silly is good for the soul.  She also teaches me to just “be” sometimes. She is resourceful…fiercely resourceful. I learn independence from her. I have no doubt that this little girl will grow to be an independent, strong, confident woman.

I have been learning from Jackson the longest, of course. Determination, bravery, and overcoming obstacles…Jackson excels at these things. He has always taught me not to take myself so seriously. And his laugh makes anyone realize that laughter is a necessity, not an option.

As their mother, I have stored specific teachable moments from them in my heart and my memory recalls them often. In the last few weeks, a little lesson I learned from Jackson has been playing over and over in my mind and heart.

The City of Children is an orphanage for children in Baja, Mexico. It is based on love of God and the love of children. It is a beautiful place with so many beautiful children.  Michael and I both traveled there as college students and continued to visit together after we married. It was only natural to take Jackson there shortly after he was born.

On his first trip to The City, he and I joined a group out of Nashville. Michael stayed behind, immersed in rotations and medical books. Jackson was a hit! The children loved the fair skinned five month bundle of fun. The little girls liked to push his stroller. The little boys gave him soccer balls to hold.  The children Michael and I had watched grow up, now loved on our little one as we had loved on them.

On this specific trip we not only had work to do inside the orphanage walls, but we also traveled outside into rural areas to fill needs of folks that were struggling. One day of our trip was spent shopping for groceries at a local store and then traveling to give some relief in the form of food. Rice, beans, tortillas, fruit…all in the name of Jesus.

Our team would pile out of the van and grab the food and then head into the house to meet with the family and pray. We met dads and moms, single mothers, and lots of kids. They were thankful and prayerful. And they all were fascinated by Baby Jackson.

I held tight to my baby boy, knowing he was safe in my arms. There was a fear. Looking back now I don’t really understand of what I was afraid. Maybe I was afraid he would fall onto the rough Mexico loose dirt walkways. Maybe I was afraid of a foreign germ. Maybe it was just the unfamiliar. Maybe it was just being a mom.

We stood outside one home that seemed to be filled with a dozen kids. It was a small makeshift house that I was pretty sure didn’t have electricity or plumbing. I remember wondering how they all slept in such a small space.

One by one the kids began to gather round me, reaching to touch Jackson’s cheeks and hands and chunky little legs. I began to panic. Their little hands were dust and dirt covered, some having snotty noses and matted hair.  They asked to hold him, to which I immediately made excuses as to why they couldn’t. I held onto him even tighter, keeping him perfectly perched high on my hip.

Then a dusty, tanned, dark eyed little girl came over with a soft little smile. To this day I can still vividly see her face. She didn’t say a word, but just reached out her arms, breaking the language barrier by a gesture that was undeniable.

“Come to me. Let me hold you.”

I tightened, but at the same time Jackson plunged his little arms into hers. He grabbed onto her and giggled with excitement. Being humbled by son, I let go and watched as the little girl bounced him on her hip and talked to him in a language that made him gaze at her with curiosity.She kissed his check as he returned the favor.  At six months old, Jackson was wiser and more accepting and loving than his mother. I watched carefully and learned the most beautiful lesson from my baby boy.

In three of the four gospels, we find Jesus teaching and preaching. Some parents show up, bringing their kids to meet Jesus. They hoped He would pray for them and lay His hands on the children. That’s when the disciples called a time out. I can just hear the scolding…

“Don’t you dare bother Him! Don’t you know He is the Messiah! He doesn’t have time for these children!”

The parents must have been so embarrassed. Some were probably livid for how they had been spoken to by these followers of Christ. But can you imagine the disappointment and hurt in the children’s eyes as they began to back up and walk away, untouched, unprayed for, unloved?

“Let the little children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.”

Oh the joy that must have been present between Jesus and those kids as they were allowed to run into His arms! I bet they climbed onto His lap, thrilled just be with their Lord. We have a lot to learn…

Jesus wasn’t afraid of the dust. He wasn’t disgusted by the snotty noses and matted hair. He extended His arms and an invitation.

I am pretty sure God wants us to go into any situation willing to learn, but not always eager to teach. We should pass no judgment, we shouldn’t be too busy, but we should love unconditionally.

We better get busy opening our doors, freeing up a little extra time, and start inviting the little ones, no matter what they look like or where they come from, to “come to Him”.  

This can look lots of different ways.  It might even be as simple as saying a kind word or explaining something in a calm and loving manner. Maybe it’s volunteering at a local school. It could look like pulling a child on your lap when no one else will. You could give up a few hours to help with homework, do a service project, and play a few games. It could look like attending a football game, finding a common ground, or sitting down to a bible study. This could be as big as taking someone as your own.

The way I see it, the only way the little children can come to Jesus today is through us.  

The Scary Pharisee

When I read stories about the Pharisee characters of the bible, I cringe. My mouth still drops open in shock when I re-read the account of the Pharisee praying in the temple (Luke 18). I bet people around that heard him had the thought a lot of us do today when someone opens their mouth and inserts their foot...

"Did he really just say that?!?!"

I wonder if that is what God thought as the prayer made its way up to heaven.

Jesus’ reaction to these men throughout scripture gives me pause, and makes me walk my walk and talk my talk with caution. These Pharisees that we read about, they scare me.

The name Pharisee comes from words, in languages that I can’t even understand, meaning "seperated ones” or “loyal and loved by God”. They studied the law and prided themselves on obeying God.  One could say they became extreme in their desire to know and obey...so extreme that they completely missed out on Christ.  When they witnessed his works and heard his words, they dismissed him as hoax, maybe out of disbelief or maybe out of fear.  This dismissal evidently led him to the cross.

During Jesus’ ministry we see him speak out against the Pharisees much. At times, if I close my eyes, I can imagine the sarcasm in his voice and see the frustrations on his face when he dealt with them.  He had to carry a sadness as well for a people that claimed to know God, but yet didn’t care to know Him in the flesh.

In Matthew 23 we read this…

“Then Jesus said to the crowds and to His disciples, “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees are the official interpreters of the law of Moses. So practice and obey what they tell you, but don’t follow their example. For they don’t practice what they teach. They crush people with unbearable religious demands and never lift a finger to ease the burden. Everything they do is for show.” NLT

"They don't practice what they teach."

"They crush people with unbearable religious demands..."

"...never lift a finger to ease the burden."

"Everything they do is for show."

I am scared. Scared that us believers today are a bit more “Pharisaical” (yes, that’s a word) than we’d like to admit.

We get busy loving the Word, studying it and cramming every ounce of knowledge we can into our minds. We have to make sure we are educated and full of knowledge.  But can we do this to a fault? Is this really what Christianity is all about?

We make our lists of the “dos” and the “do nots” and want to walk the fine line carefully.  Is everything truly black and white or is there any area of grey?

We pass the homeless guy on the street, and don’t even acknowledge him with a smile. We don’t care to know his story, and we think he probably doesn’t want to talk, and that any relief we could give him will be spent on cigarettes and liquor. I wonder if that is what the Pharisee thought when he looked the other way as he passed the dude that was lying on the side of the road?

We walk into a comfortable church building on Sunday morning with the best dress we have to offer, snarling our nose a bit at the poor choice some folks have in clothing. We see ourselves as the better Christian since we are filling a pew rather than being somewhere else. Do we resemble the guy in Luke 18?

These Pharisees we read of and Jesus warns us about, were more concerned about themselves. They studied and memorized the law. They busied themselves crossing their Ts and dotting their Is.  They read the commandments...but they forgot to check out the illustrations.

I don't know about you, but I need to practice what Jesus teaches. My hands and feet need to match the words I am reading. I need to fill my mind with the knowledge of God's story and then put into action the things I am learning. I need to be a doer, just not a hearer. I need to show my knowledge and faith by the works I do.

The Pharisees, they missed it. They missed Him.

"I want them to be encouraged and knit together by strong ties of LOVE. I want them to have complete confidence that they understand God's mysterious plan, which is CHRIST himself. In HIM lie hidden all the treasures of WISDOM and KNOWLEDGE."
Colossians 2:2-3

If they had showed a little love, practiced a little more extreme faith, sat down and actually got to know Christ, the wisdom they longed for, the knowledge they prided themselves on, it would have ALL been found in His love and illustrative teaching.

I hope we aren't missing Him.

WeCareCannon

It was late March back a few years ago. Michael, the three kids, and I had just gotten back from the Spring break trip to the island.  My day had been going well, even though it was overcast and a bit cooler than my fresh-from-the-Caribbean body was longing for. I was upbeat and happy, with joy in my heart from ten days spent loving on Saba.

I wheeled up to Woodbury Grammar School for some sort of “mom duty”.  As I parked the car on the front curb of the building, I noticed the school principal, Mrs. Bonnie Patterson, and the assistant, Mr. Jeff Todd, parking as well and getting out of a car. As my feet hit the pavement, I met the two school administrators with a smile and a happy, “Hey guys, how are y’all?”

I did not expect the response, but it has forever changed me. Mrs. Bonnie replied…

“You want a mission field, I have you a mission field. We just came from filling the fridge and pantry shelves of a house where some of our students live. It was practically empty, Aletha, empty! We have to do something.”

For me, that is how WeCareCannon began. And that's also when Bonnie Patterson became one of my favorite people. 

When a few men and women from our community began to roll around the idea of our community being motivated and pulled together to help each other out, I HAD to be involved. Folks started talking about school supplies and backpacks. Then school appropriate shoes. And if you are giving new shoes, why wouldn’t you give socks too? I will never forget attending a county principal’s meeting and being told, “Underwear! They need underwear too!”  Little by little, others began to throw in ideas. Before long medical exams, dental checkups, haircuts, and hygiene products were on the lists of musts.

Once one knows, how can you not pitch in and help in some way?

But this is what is on my heart…

It isn’t about a free handout.  It isn’t about doing something because you think this is what someone else needs so that you can pillow your head at night and feel good. It isn’t about donating a chunk of change and then turning a deaf ear to the real needs of the families and children of our community.

It’s about meeting a child and asking their name. It’s about having a conversation about their grandfather who is about to have surgery and praying over his healing.

It’s about giving a young lady a fresh haircut. When she looks in the mirror, she doesn’t think about it being free, but she feels confident and she remembers the stylist that was kind.

It’s about a child being able to run and play like the other kids in class, with shoes that are appropriate on a gym floor and fit perfectly.

It’s about the grandmother who is raising her four grandkids. Her worry is lifted by the kind gestures, needed supplies, and encouraging acceptance.

It’s about a volunteer freezing in a gym while handing out supplies, realizing she’d rather be uncomfortable for a few hours so a child can be comfortable for an entire school year in the appropriate size new underwear.

It’s about a kid seeing a lady in Piggly Wiggly. The two see each other and immediately hug and begin to talk about how the school year has gone.

It’s about the man that wrote a pretty hefty check to financially support WeCareCannon.   He shows up the day of the event to be a tour guide. The same hand that wrote the check, holds the hand of a new kindergarten student, encouraging them that they are going to love their new school and do absolutely wonderful!

It’s not only about a financial need. It’s about an emotional need. It’s about an intellectual need. It’s about the need of stress relief and the absence of worry.

WeCareCannon is really about a feeling that I wish could take over not only our little community, but our country and our world.  If we help each other out…and we ALL need help in some way at some time…then we don’t get bogged down with what the government should or shouldn’t do or about somebody taking too many handouts and the such.

It’s about the need of unity and understanding and love.

Really it all boils down to this…“Treat others as you want to be treated.”

It’s as easy as a backpack. It’s as little as a cap eraser. It’s as simple as a smile or kind word.

It’s as big as a child’s life changed forever.

If Once You Slept On An Island...

Jet lag, laundry, football practices, cheer camp, gymnastics, and WeCareCannon.  That is what re-entry to our life here has looked like this week. The majority of these things bring me joy, but those first two...I could do with out those.

I have looked through hundreds of pictures from our two weeks of day camp, island life, fun, and love and service. The smiles make me smile. The familiar little faces I know are too many miles away, but are etched on my heart. The memories are making my day dreams sweet and my sleep a little easier.

Below I am attaching a poem a good friend of mine shared with me a few years ago. She Faceboooked it to me, knowing how much Saba meant to me and how the island had changed me. Thanks, JJ.

We all are a composite of all the events, experiences, people, and places that have come and gone and/or stayed in our lives. It's so very true, isn't it? The way we behave, phrases that we say, the way we view things, and the habits we develop can 9 times out of 10 be traced back to someone in our life or an experience we have. We go places, people cross our paths, and we are never quite the same.

There is this vine that grows in my flower pots every summer. It has the cutest little yellow flower with a black center. It is a staple in my flower selection. Sometimes I have to search all over Murfreesboro just to find it. It is called the Black Eyed Susan vine...and it's Saba's national flower.

Many folks have opened my freezer to find, in their opinion, some of the oddest items. Sugar, flour, cornmeal, and the such. I am afraid of sugar ants. Tennessee doesn't have sugar ants...but Saba does.

These phrases roll off our tongues before we even think about it...

"Just now."

"She will make 10 in July."

"Okay. All right."

The Thomas house sounds like you are on the road in Saba a lot of days.

I use to mourn being away from the Unspoiled Queen, and let's be honest some yucky days I definitely still do. But this is the realization that I have had as of late...

Saba is always with me. We are not a part. She is in my flower bed and freezer. She is in how I speak.  She is etched in the laughter of the three kids when we share memories and tell stories. Social media allows us to share pictures and life together on a daily basis. She will arrive on an airplane back in Nashville three times over this next month. Her people communicate with me and some even grace the rooms of our  house with their presence.

Just as I pointed out in an earlier post, my grandmother's sweet spirit is a part of the island because she is a part of me. In the same manner, the spirit and the love found on Saba is a part of my life here in my home of Tennessee because Saba is a part of me.

This realization also embraces the thanksgiving for all my other people and places.  My sweet family. Carthage. Jackson County. TTU and Cookeville. Pacific and St. Louis. Rome, Georgia. My current home of Cannon County. And all the people that make these places warm places in my heart and joyful thoughts in my days.

God intended for us to enjoy His creation and to be relational and connected with the people He placed on this earth and in our lives. His son was the greatest example of being in the moment, meeting people where they are at, and always remembering where you come from. He was the epitome of love and having it overtake one's life.

So I leave you with this poem. It always makes my heart smile.

If Once You Have Slept on an Island

If once you have slept on an island

You'll never be quite the same;

You may look as you looked the day before

And go by the same old name, 

You may bustle about in street and shop

You may sit at home and sew,

But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls

Wherever your feet may go. 

You may chat with the neighbors of this and that

And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell

And tides beat through your sleep. 

Oh! you won't know why and you can't say how

Such a change upon you came,

But once you have slept on an island,

You'll never be quite the same.

By: Rachel Lyman Field


You Can Leave the Island...

We are in the clouds again this afternoon. Movies are being watched. iPods and iPhones are being played on with games and music. Team members are snoozing. Writing seems like a good way to pass the time.

This morning began at 5:00am for this mom. I rolled off my air mattress and slid on my shower shoes. One last Saba shower for Summer 2016.  Some of the nuisances of the community center have a way of growing on me. I am sure I will find myself in the weeks to come, turning the water on and then off as I wash my hair and lather up with soap, and then on again to rinse.

Us girls got up and got moving and felt accomplished to be packed, cleaned, and waiting for our ride to the airport by 7:00am, a good forty five minutes early. We sat on the cistern and let the sun hit our faces a bit longer while we looked out over lower Hell's Gate.

So much of these trips is about the island, of course. But these young women (and young men, too) sure have changed me over the last fifteen years. I adore serving alongside them. They encourage me to be adventurous. They inspire me as I watch them live life so intentionally. They contagiously laugh with me. They fiercely love on my island. They are true reflections of my Father.

It was a short wait compared to other trips, at the Juancho E. Yrausquin Airport today. Check in went smooth and we enjoyed visiting with a few friends who made their way down to see us off. As we waited, Sadie came up with a plan.

The little twin otter plane landed and we gave our boarding passes to Fabi, the gate attendant. My feet always have a hard time finding their way up the short flight stairs into the 19 seat cabin.  I took one last glance. Saba seems gigantic standing on Flat Point and looking up. One would never guess she is only 5 square miles.

When I took my seat, directly behind the three kids, Jackson was very eager to tell me what his baby sister had asked the pilot.  As she had taken her front row seat, she carefully leaned up and in a sweet voice asked...

"Sir, can you please fly us around Saba?"

As you take off from the Unspoiled Queen, the plane banks left, and then has a direct shot to St. Martin. That is the normal routine.  My seven year old's request was a fun one, but one that I didn't expect to be fulfilled.

As we sped off the little run way, the three kids had their fingers crossed. And the plane banked right.

As we flew around her, the sights were all so familiar...the church bell tower in Hell's Gate, our old house, Fort Bay and the harbor, St. John's and our beloved schools, the Bottom. The road snaked around the rainforest and rocks. The little red roofs decorated my island just perfectly.

There was so much excitement in this extra special treat granted by our pilots. But tears began to flow...from my eyes and the eyes of the three kids as well. Oh how we will miss her!

What a beautiful gift God gave the world in the miracle of places like Saba. A dormant volcano with a lush rainforest perched perfectly in the sea. She is as beautiful under water as she is above. Sea turtles, Sharks, and thousands of species of fish call her home. She boasts iguanas, mangoes, and July trees. Her people are lovely beyond words and are more than friendly. They have a way of life that many of us could learn a thing or two from.

Only the Master Creator could orchestrate such a place. And only He could create the love that I have for the little island with the big personality.  He is better than good...better than great. He is extravagant in His creation and in the story He continues to write on Saba and on the hearts of the Lipscomb teams that get the gift of gracing her shores twice a year.

I am filled with prayers of thanksgiving on this flight home. I am filled with the prayer of hope that March will come quickly. And more than anything I am filled with love and a prayer of praise for an extravagant God.

I will end with the first line of the song playing over my playlist at this very moment...

"You can leave the island, but you can't leave my love."

Tuesday on Saba

I love every day on this island, but a day when I awake to a pristine blue sky without a cloud in sight...that's my favorite.  Days like this is what one dreams the Caribbean of being. On days like this, I find myself keeping an eye on the top of Saba's highest point, Mt. Scenery. If the clouds stay away and if we are able to find a couple hours of down time, a hike to the highest point in the Netherlands is a must.

Today I made the trek with the youngest Thomas kid. She had her Saba sidekick, Rashadijn (aka, Shady) along with her.  I loved hearing their 7 year old dialogue and seeing their little legs ascend to the top. They tackled all 1064 steps without much complaint at all.

While we hiked with a few of the team members, Nancy Caroline hung out with her friends Natalie and Lauren in Windwardside.  Just down by the sea at Torrens Point, Michael and Jackson were experiencing their first dive on Saba.

Two of us on the top, one of us in the middle, and two of us at the base in the waters. The Thomas family had Saba covered it seemed.

Sharing Saba with the three kids is something that I store up in my heart.  The memories of hiking with Sadie, the image of the three of them snorkeling side by side, getting to see Jackson become a diver, knowing Nancy Caroline fits in so well here with the kids and loves helping at day camp....things like that make me realize that the island and the three kids are getting along just beautifully.

At day camp today, I spent another day in my old classroom teaching Saban children how to cook. We decided to try a little cultural competition...Saban Pumpkin Fritters vs. Southern Fried Pies. My fellow team member Amie volunteered to lead the children in making the fritters, while I tackled the pies.

We began cooking down the dried fruit and sugaring it up. The markets didn't have peaches or apples, so we used apricots and mangoes. I taught the kids how to take the biscuit dough and roll it out into a good sized little circles. Then it was on to the frying.

This task ended up being pretty tedious, due to the kitchen air conditioner being on the blink. About half way through, the room felt like a sauna. But the children were happy, with or without airco.

The little fella I assigned to help me with the frying is Jamal. He and his brothers and sister are some that have loved Lipscomb from the very beginning pretty much. He has chestnut brown eyes, tanned skin, and his hair is in a single braid down his back. His little bright eyed smile gets me every time.

As we stood and watched as the southern delicacies turned to golden brown, we began to ask each other questions.

I found out he likes to cook at home with his mother. He learned that I sometimes miss being in a classroom cooking with students. He loves soccer. I love American football. We both have an older sister.

I asked him about making Johnny Cakes and fritters. He asked me how much sugar to add to the fried pie filling and where he could find the fruit in the market on the island. He asked why we used a fork to clasp the edges shut.

Then came the question that led to all sorts of stories...

"Mrs. Aletha, where did you learned to make these fried pies?"

Grandmother. I then told Jamal all about my grandmother. I told him how she had coached me for years on frying pies, canning pickles, planting flowers, making biscuits, and living life. I told him all about how she made me laugh and how when I was little I thought she could do no wrong. She has always been kind and has always loved me so well. I told my little friend about how age is now taking it's toll on my sweet grandmother.

Jamal told me he thought she sounded nice and he hoped she felt better soon.

Just as I finished telling him about Grandmother, another boy walked up and asked if he could join us and help fry. "Yes" immediately fell off my lips before I realized the two boys standing on opposite sides of me now had been at odds pretty much the entire day camp. I braced myself for the exchange that was for sure to take place.

Jamal gave Tobias some pointers and the frying commenced. They were friendly and even shared a few laughs. All I could think of was just maybe the stories of my grandmother had softened the attitude of these boys. The smell of the fried pies and the memories on my mind felt like an assurance that her spirit was very much a part of my island because she is a part of me.

Today ended with a traditional "devo in the gazebo". This is one of my favorite times on Saba. It's a period of praise and prayer. It just so happened that tonight we forgot to take our song books. So we broke out in all the children's VBS type songs we could think of. It also just so happened that it was Shady's first devo with us at the gazebo.

I couldn't help but realize how special this ended up being, all of us gathered there in the gazebo singing songs that our special little friend knew almost all by heart.  It was like the Lord catered the evening of "just so happeneds" into an evening of "this is how I meant for it to be".

What a day! My feet are tired tonight, my eyes are heavy, my heart is full, and my joy is great.

An Overdue Update from Saba

This was written last Tuesday. Internet has been a bit of a challenge for those of us staying at the community center. And I haven't wanted to be immersed in the social media world very much during lunches at Child Focus. So I am taking you back in time a bit. More will be posted this coming week I am sure. For now, happy Sunday...

I am about to close my eyes for the day. It is hot in this community center tonight. The wind is light and my skin is sticky. The Saban tree frogs are chirping, ready to sing me to sleep. The laughter and conversation of my fellow female teammates joins in with their lullaby as well.

Yesterday I lead 6 and 7 year olds in a cooking making session at camp. Today I helped lead a group of teens on a scavenger hunt and then on a hike that ended with making smoothies as a cool refreshment.  To say the least I have had the best of both worlds...the youngest and the oldest.

I love to see the little flour covered grins of the littles as they try to sneak a bite of the cookie dough. And I love the jovial conversation and ease of the bigs. The children of this island make me love the little things in life that the hustle and bustle of American life seems to loose in all the chaos.

Tonight we gathered in our normal family meeting just outside our community center doors. As that meeting went on, many of us began to realize that we were not alone. Up above us on the roof were a few little fellas, trying to squeeze in a few more moments with "De Lipscomb". As things began to end, a little voice bellowed down a question, letting his presence be for certain...

"Ms. Aletha?"

"Yes, Caleb?"

"Would it be okay if I prayed over you all tonight?"

My heart skipped just a beat before I quickly took him up on his offer. He prayed over our sleep and our safety. He thanked God for us. And he then asked that God bring us back to Saba next year. It was one of the sweetest, sincerest little prayers I have ever heard. A little boy talking his big Daddy about some people he has come to love on a playground and in a school and at a day camp.

After he finished, I couldn't help but to ask if I could return the favor. My words had a hard time finding their way out. I felt like I was fumbling trying to fight back the tears, knowing the Father had once again given me a glimpse of Him. This time through a little fella from a little island in the middle of the sea.

Sometimes as a team leader, I try to find the right things to say at just the right time. I search for the perfect passage for Michael and I to share as we say goodnight to our teams.  We spend hours organizing events, writing curriculum, assigning day camp responsibilities, and planning devotionals.

What I am guilty of loosing sight of is this...God orchestrates the most powerful messages at just the right moments to reveal Himself to us. He will use us or whoever He wishes, whether we have exhausted ourselves in preparation or if we have just spent the day playing with friends and going to a day camp.

So today I learned to be thankful for the people that make a difference in my day. The people that show the unexpected love and care at the unexpected moments. Tonight I am thankful for Caleb.