Spencer Fell Asleep at 5:30 Last Night

A few minutes of election coverage (and a few days of daylight savings) did him right in.  So I carried him to bed and crossed my fingers he'd sleep well.  Lucy and I made a can of tomato soup for dinner.  I did the dishes.  She built a Lincoln Log masterpiece.  We popped popcorn and sifted through Halloween candy to find red and blue m'n'ms.  There weren't many. But there were enough.

We giggled and munched and snapped silly photos together as we watched the vote tallies slowly rise. 

My sober heart hoped and prayed for enough.

After a discouraging hour or so, I sent Lucy for her journal.  "Write that we voted for Mitt Romney," I said, a feeling of pride and patriotism surfacing through the growing disappointment.

It had been a close race at school, too, she told me.  11 to 12.  "You were the deciding vote," I told her.
 

I kissed and tucked her into bed around 8.  "Will you lay by me?"  she asked.  Impatience to know the election outcome made me hesitate.  But I chose right.  Laying in her quiet room was good for my soul.  It always is. 

And I made it back for plenty of Election Alerts!  After a few of the most discouraging, I considered bed myself.  There's no point in listening to speeches, I thought.  "Mitt will be gracious," Kayla texted, "and it will make us like him more and be sad he didn't win."

He was gracious.
And I am sad that he didn't win.

But when I did make it to bed after the speech, I was glad for the little fellow who toddled in to join me.  He was alert enough from his early bedtime to snuggle a little, but sleepy enough to lay quietly and let me lovingly lecture him to my heart's content.

"Spencer,"  I whispered.  "I want you to keep learning everything you can.  I want you to grow up to be a strong and a good boy.  I want you to remember to always follow Jesus."

Every few minutes he gave me a smile or a sleepy nod and filled my heart with hope for the future.  I thought of our conversation a few evenings prior, when, as part of a cozy family night discussion, I asked, "Lucy and Spencer, do you know that Heavenly Father loves this country??!" 

"Yep!" Spencer responded, "But he doesn't love meanness!!" 

No.  He doesn't love meanness.  
I hope our children will keep reminding us of that. 

God Bless America.
For all of us, but especially for them.

Preschool Addendum: City Council

We've already had a red white and blue day once this year - in April when the Wiz Kidz sang at the opening of a local city council meeting.  Let me tell you:  Lucy felt like a big deal. I learned the day before the performance that she thought her grandparents were coming (naturally).  I hadn't invited them or even mentioned it to them in passing.  When we finally did call we were careful to tell them, "Only come if you can!"

They came. 

And the kids performed.

And when they finished, someone special came to meet them.

The mayor?  The president?

(Look at those faces!)

Zippy the Squirrel? 

Who is Zippy the Squirrel?  No idea, but the kids loved him.  Lucy stood in front of him for five hours saying, "Look at my flag!" (he finally did). 

 All told: a pretty great night!

(Brynn and Lucy tried to hug but bonked heads instead)

(Lucy and Travis: best buds as usual!!  It was all we could do to tear them apart!)

  

On the way home, Lucy sang and sang and sang. Full voiced. For all the world to hear.

   

I wish all the world could hear.

The Weekend Festivities...

started on Thursday evening...

continued on Friday....

kicked into full force on Saturday...

and wrapped up on Sunday...

We're thankful for a lot more than that, actually (but one is limited with sidewalk chalk, is one not?).

Today in Sacrament meeting we sang God Loved Us, So He Sent His Son. That concept pretty much dominates our grateful list, and could be the topic of a whole post in and of itself. But I don't intend to wax doctrinal. There was just a phrase in that song that captured a few of my forth of July thoughts.

In reference to the sacramental bread and water, the hymn reads:

Partaking now is deed for word
That I remember him, my Lord.

Deed for word. That was the phrase that struck me. Because there are so many words, aren't there? Wonderful words.

Let freedom ring
Justice for all
In God we trust
I pledge allegiance
We the people

But, deed for word. You know what I mean?

Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

I'm glad we celebrate. But this fourth found me full of yearning that our celebrations not be token, that our words - all of those beautiful, resounding ideals - not be hollow, that we might, as a nation, embrace certain unalienable responsibilities in addition to our loudly declared individual rights.

Because the country I hope my children will inherit can't be created soley by government spending or legislation. It can only be created by the charity, compassion, hard work, and humility of the people.

God bless us, America, to that end. And God bless all the people I know personally, all the poeple I just know of, and all the people I don't know, who daily pledge - in deed, and in a thousand different ways - their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor for the betterment of our beautiful country.

A Fiery Fourth

Tonight from my living room window (let's be honest: from all of my windows) I can hear a stadium full of patriotic revelers applauding the nearby Miley Cyrus performance.
It's the Fourth of July.

We celebrated with family.



And with sparklers.
And if you're a good mom, you think to warn your three-year-old that the blazing magic at the end of her silver stick is H O T.
So sorry, Lucy, that your Fourth of July bedtime routine featured fingers plunged into cold tap water and an ice bag instead of a stuffed animal.

But as I laid by my tired, hurting little girl tonight, as I watched her singed, sleepy fingers clutch the cold bag I held near her, and as I complied with her request to sing songs about "country's birthday," there was a hot kind of fire inside my heart. Different from the dancing fire that suprised Lucy's fingers. Different from the booming fires sounding overhead.

Deep fire. Fueled by the sight of my child's sleeping face. Fueled by the words of her patriotic lullaby:

Our fathers' God, to thee, author of liberty, to thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright with freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might, great God, our King.

A fire fueled by gratitude for family and freedom. Two glorious blessings. And as I looked at Lucy's face, I thought of the vital connection between the two. I was stung afresh by the realization that our success as a proud and prosperous nation depends entirely on what happens inside our homes (cue Barbara Bush quote that I'm too lazy to look up). And I remembered these very moving, important words from President Hinckley. Important.

Lucy's quiet now. I'm off to the lawn to conclude this year's Independence Day celebration with our family and the husband I love.

But I'll take my little heart-fire with me. A fire of hope that God will bless all the families of this nation.

Of Thee I Sing...

What a tremendously happy couple of weeks it has been! Family reunion and then the Fourth of July.

Lucy's now in bed trying to sleep off her holiday hangover (two weeks of too much sugar and lots of stimulation make for a pretty happy - but TIRED child!)

The Mormon Tabernacle Choir is serenading me with the Spirit of America as I now sit at my computer, in total neglect of our MESSY house, but in gratitude for a moment of reflection...






And how did we celebrate our Independence Day, you ask? Well, lacking a proper flag pole, we tied our stars and stripes to the balcony.




Lucy was very solemn. "I help" she repeated again and again.



And then...we trekked down to the Freedom Festival Parade, a favorite Provo tradition of ours (although we missed the convenience and the company of Janna and Corey's shaded parade spot of last year). But Lucy still laughed and laughed at the horses ("he-shake-his-head again!") and she loved the "seagulls!" she saw on the floats (Our corrections of, "E-agle! E-agle" were met by Lucy's blank stares and even more definite declarations: "Seagull!" "Seagull!").

It was all fun and pretty low key. But when a young children's choir passed by, singing the strains of "God Bless America," my heart felt a familiar swelling; my eyes, a familiar wetting.
I so much hope that Lucy will grow to know a similar, passionate patriotism. I hope that the American flag will represent to her in future days what it has represented to so many generations past.

To me, those brilliant colors represent :

Heroes.A countless number of them.
Abraham Lincolns and George Washingtons top a long list that includes our grandparents, parents, siblings, neighbors, and friends who live lives of integrity, service, and contribution.



Diversity:"The children in the playground, the people that I see
All races, all religions, that's America to Me" (The House I Live In)
Beauty:
Whenever Lucy sees the mountain- scene on my debit card she bursts forth in strains of, "I love-a mountains! I love-a-rolling hills!..." And then we get mixed up in fountains, daffodils, and firesides...but oh, how I love the mountains - those breathtaking, beautiful, moody mountains!
Hope:
All of this patriotic gushing does not negate the fact that hardship plagues our country. Evil abounds here - often perpetuated because good men and women "do nothing," or, maybe more likely, don't know what to do.
And yet when I look at our flag I feel hope because of the many good men and women I know who do something.
I have hope because of the inspired and moral foundation upon which our nation was built.
I feel hope that if change for the better is possible, it is possible here - in a nation of liberty and justice, in a nation under God.

And so, on we go, pursuing happiness,

grateful for the privilege of doing so.

My native country, thee, land of the noble free, thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills, thy woods and templed hills;
my heart with rapture thrills, like that above.

Let music swell the breeze, and ring from all the trees sweet freedom's song;
let mortal tongues awake; let all that breathe partake;
let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong.

Our fathers' God, to thee, author of liberty, to thee we sing;
long may our land be bright with freedom's holy light;
protect us by thy might, great God, our King.

What do red white and blue represent to you? Why are you proud to be an American??