Our Crazy Life
I wish that what I heard every other day was, “My, you are stunning!” or “Wow, you manage those children so well!” However, the comment I most hear from well-intentioned (or at least that is what I tell myself) strangers at Wal Mart or the park or the bank or any of our other weekly attractions is “My, you sure have your hands full.” Depending on my mood (or rather the moods of the sweet little men who are with me like fifth and sixth appendages), my heart’s response varies. “Thank you, captain obvious. I did not realize that, but your comment has given such helpful insight to my current struggle to make it through Wal Mart without one of the three of us losing it and bursting out in tears,” sometimes runs across my silent thoughts, as I smile as Southern as I can as a displaced Yankee. Other days, my smile is honest and genuine, as the stranger’s comment honestly causes worship to rush up in my heart. “I love these two kids under two, dirty, wearing matching orange thomas shirts that have been washed too many times to notice the Thomas anymore. I would not have life any other way. It’s crazy but it’s my life.”
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