Big girls, janitors and old guys

I live with two of the most amazing people. Two profoundly different but equally delightful little creations, both slam full of brilliance and joy and fun.

My Mackenzie TOTALLY ROCKED her part in the children's musical Sunday. I was videotaping through tears as she was singing like an absolute pro, but more importantly she was singing lyrics that were incredibly applicable to her little life right now. Words like: "God will take care of me." and "Even through fiery trials, and even when I don't understand, God is taking care of me." I had a moment. You know the kind. A moment of stark realization. It hit me that my little girl is growing and blossoming, and though she faces things that are out of my control, God can and is speaking to her. My heart screamed out to God, asking Him to PLEASE let her soak in those words and TRUST that they are true.

I sent her off to camp this morning. She'll be spending three nights at camp with our church group. I held her tight when I said goodbye and my heart screamed again. I begged God to speak to her, show her stuff, and mend her heart in ways that I can't. So if you pray, send one up for my girl. Ask God to capture her heart this week, and ask Him to form a friendship with her that will see her through the pain we are in right now, and every pain she'll ever face.


And then there's my boy. He deals with things in his own way, too. For one thing, I never know what question is coming next. Here's the latest conversation of interest:

We are all three in the living room, watching Princess Diaries. Suddenly, a question springs forth...

Levi: "Mom, are you going to marry a different man now that daddy passed away?" (I have no idea where this came from.)
Me: "Uh... first of all your dad didn't pass away. When people say someone passed away, they mean that person died. And as you know, daddy isn't dead, he just moved away. And second, the answer is yes, after daddy and I are divorced, maybe one day I might marry another man. But I promise I'll talk to you about it first, and it won't be very soon."

Levi: "Oh... ok."

Silence for a while....

Levi: "Mommy?"

Me: "Yes?"

Levi: "Don't marry a janitor, OK?"

Me: "Ok... what's wrong with janitors?"

Levi: "Well, if you marry a janitor, we might have to go over and clean the church all the time." (In context of what my kids' dad's job has always been, this is perfectly logical. When your dad's a minister of music, you always go to church and you sing a lot, and your mom plays the piano and stuff. So if your mom married a janitor, well... that could be disastrous.)
Me: (trying unsuccessfully to stifle the giggles) "OK... I see. No janitors."

Silence for a while....

Levi: "Mommy?"

Me: "yes?"

Levi: "Also, don't marry an old guy, ok?"

My eyebrows shoot up.

Me: "Ok... well what's an old guy? Do you mean like Santa?"

Levi and Mackenzie: "You could marry Santa. Then we would have lots of toys, and move to the North Pole."

Levi: "But not other old guys."



And so, we have standards. No janitors and no old guys, with the exception made, of course, in case Santa ever became eligible again.


Of course, I had the serious heart to heart with them, about even if I ever married another man, they only have one daddy. And their dad will still be their dad no matter what, and no one else would make their dad unimportant.

But I'm still stifling the giggles over my five-year-old's dating rules. It's one of those single mom moments that you either laugh or cry. I had to laugh.

And now, I'm ready to sign off. It's just Levi and me tonight and I'm being treated to his rousing rendition of "Trading My Sorrows" sung by an action figure whose hands are perfectly poised for the motions. I'm afraid I gotta see this.

"Yes, yes, Lord, Amen."