Yay, another entry! Huzzah! (Yes, I do need to keep cheering myself on with every post, otherwise, I'll fall off the bandwagon again.)
So I have no big earth-shattering or deep thoughts this morning, except to say: God is good.
My in-laws are watching Baby's sick cousin this week in order to keep him separated from his new baby brother until the contagion is past, so their house is kind of off limits for Baby and I to do laundry in, so instead, yesterday I went to a friend's house to do laundry, and it was a pleasant afternoon spent chatting about kids and my latest shameful habit: "The Vampire Diaries." I... I was weak... (Yes, that is a Firefly reference, for you astute nerds out there).
When I got home and got Baby put to bed, I discovered a neat little surprise: I lost another 5 lbs! I don't pretend to know how weight loss works, but for the last three weeks or so I've been stalled out at around 18/19 lbs, and could not move forward no matter how hard I tried. It was a big deal to me because 20 lbs was a big milestone for me. So when I discovered that-- of all things, after missing three karate classes in a row-- I had lost five pounds and finally passed the 20 lbs lost mark, I was just ecstatic. That's 23 lbs total!
Then, this morning, I had to run errands, so I packed baby up in the car with the promise of chocolate milk if she was good, and ran off to the mailbox (yes, I have to drive to get to a mailbox: it's about a mile away. DUMB!) and the bank. Then, as promised, I took my exemplary model of a well-trained 20-month old (for today, anyway) in to the Starbucks I used to work at. We got her a chocolate milk, and Mommy got the same, with some added legal addictive stimulants, and a pound of coffee as well (woot!), then we went to sit at the bar for awhile.
My old boss and my Starbucks Angel (a guy named after one of the Biblical Archangels, and possibly the zaniest Catholic I've ever met) both happened to be working, so I got to sit and chat with them for a while in that broken 2-sentences-interrupted-by-calling-drink-orders way that we used to do all the time, and which we concluded must be, when combined with the constant stream of free espresso, excellent for staving off early-onset Alzheimers (since you have to work your memory to remember what you were just talking about before the fifty venti no whip extra shot three pump vanilla lattes came in-- okay, so maybe it's just working at Starbucks in general that's good for one's memory).
I also got to meet a most pleasant young man, nicknamed Patch by my former coworkers due to his profession: he is a local journalist covering stories happening in the Severn/Odenton area, and publishing to an online publication called the Odenton Patch. “Patch” was quite pleasant, and of course, how can you not be enchanted by a polite little toddler saying “hi” and smiling at you between sips of chocolate milk?
So we struck up a conversation about his work and whatnot, and somewhere in there he mentioned he was reading The Screwtape Letters, one of my favorite books and a quintessential C.S. Lewis classic. This was, in fact, the very book that, along with the prayerful intervention of several Christian friends in high school, introduced me to my Lord. Anyway, it was just cool to meet a fellow Christian out there.
Maybe it's silly, but I still get a kick out of meeting other believers, as if we're all in a big club together and there's some secret password that identifies us as members of a family. I'm glad that in the ten years I've known and pursued Jesus, that little feeling of exciting cameraderie has never left. Of course, in order to know that they're a Christian, it's often a requirement that I put myself out there first, and not everybody reacts well to a mom saying her parenting priorities are that her child “Love Jesus and be polite”. But I blurted it out anyway, and it paid off with that warm fuzzy feeling of comfirmation that I am not alone in this big world. ::happy caffeine-frenzied grin::
Also, I was musing over doing a post on prayer, seeing as a friend tagged me specifically in a link to a blog called Godspace, who is asking about views on prayer and how we can make it more meaningful. For now, my surface thoughts on it are regarding my daughter.
We have been teaching Baby to pray before meals and at bedtime, and she's starting to reach the age where she reminds us to pray. Let me tell you, it is convicting and humbling to be reminded by a child who cannot yet form coherant sentences to speak to the God of the universe and thank Him for the blessings He has poured out on us. When praying with her I, of course, have to simplify the words I am saying so that she will understand, and in so doing have found that it also helps me to really appreciate the basics: “Thank you God for the fun day we had, the wonderful friends we have and made, the beautiful weather that grows our plants. Please keep Daddy safe as he travels. Please help Mr. Finch get better, and thank you for our new baby cousin, Shaun. Please help Mommy be good as she tries to get healthy, and help us to sleep well and behave tomorrow and have fun with our friends. Thank you most of all for your son Jesus who died for us because you love us sooooo much. Amen.”
Amen indeed. So simple, yet so profound. While my prayers when solo seem to be so much more me-focused, praying with my daughter suddenly and inexplicably has me focusing more on God and all the wonderful things He does for us everyday. In fact, motherhood, for this very reason, may have been one of the most spiritual moves I ever made...
“But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:16-17