This morning I was awakened much the same as I am every morning. By the sounds of the Little Mr.'s pounding on each other. I wish I had known ahead of time that brothers like to whale on each other daily. Anyway.
With my eyes closed and the blanket pulled up over my head, I sense the Little Mr.'s. I lift up the blanket on either side and they eagerly slide in to get a quick cuddle. It is quick. They are little boys. Eyes still closed I ask what was all the yelling about? Pictures, they say. What about the pictures, I ask. The older Mr. tells me that the younger Mr. was drawing the wrong kind of pictures for me.
You see, the older Mr. believes that the only sort of pictures fit for mom are the ones with flowers & butterflies & and smiling people. Lots of lovey, girly stuff. But to his utter shock, the younger Mr. wants to draw pictures of light saber battles for me. The kind with lots of cut off heads and blood. The younger Mr. insists that Mom loves anything we make her. I think the younger Mr. is onto me.
So out of the shower I am greeted with a serenade of Frosty the Snowman, at an ear splitting decibel. I won't even tell you about the lyrics.
Follow this link and read the story about my home church in Madison. It is an interesting story, only partially about Blackhawk. As in any article, it only captures a tiny bit of what Blackhawk is.
http://www.thedailypage.com/isthmus/article.php?article=5136
Our new church here is very tiny, but we're over the shock and adapting well. In some ways, they are very alike.
Jen
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