Things Kids Say

I promise I will write about the silly shoe story in my next blog, but today, I want to talk about those silly things kids say. My nephew prompted me to write about this today when he called me on the phone just a few minutes ago. He lives about 1300 miles away and is the cutest little six-year-old boy in the world. He's also quite comical. "Aunt Penny, did you know I lost two teeth?" he asked me.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yep. And I named my new ones Spike and Spikey. Spike is all grown in, but Spikey is still a baby."

I laughed at the thought of my nephew naming his new teeth. He made my day with his sweet creativeness!

A few years ago, when my daughter Doodle was a toddler, she informed me that the Israelites in the Old Testament had sinned against God by worshipping Pistachios. She loves airplanes and as a toddler would also gaze into the sky when we'd hear an airplane and say excitedly, "Pippens!"

When my oldest daughter Sunshine was first learning to talk, her first word was "Arnold," the name of our female pet Chihuahua dog. She later called shoes "ishes." "Mama, put on ishes?" She would ask whenever we were heading out the door. She loves horses and so one of her earliest words was the word she used for horses, "hees."

Another precious thing I love is when little ones begin to read. Doodle is still on those first-reader books and as I listened to her read "Frog and Toad" last night for homework, I thought to myself that those times of sounding out words only comes once and then kids are quickly on to reading bigger and thicker books. I already miss the fact that Sunshine has moved on to Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden.

Times with little ones is soooo precious. They are only little once and it seems as time passes, the days go by faster and faster. Thank the Lord for children and the joy they bring into our lives!

Big Trucks

Our SUV wouldn't start last week. Praise the Lord it decided to konk in the garage and not on the road somewhere or at the grocery store full of kids and groceries.

So needless to say, I spent last week driving our big pickup truck. My husband's 2004 diesel pride and joy became my mode of transportation. Not only is it high off the ground, but it's also LONG. This isn't a problem for most, but for me - a person with a severe depth perception problem - this is a concern! Let me give you some background information...

I have hit four vehicles. Yes four. Now this might not sound too concerning until I admit that these were PARKED vehicles. Yep, they weren't moving. I was, but they weren't. The first was when my husband Lon and I were dating. I had a sweet souped up old-fashioned 1971 Chevy Malibu. He was driving his dad's orange Nissan pickup. He parked behind my car when he came over. I didn't realize his dad's truck was behind me. I backed out. I didn't see any damage, so I didn't think anything about it until later when Lon asked if I knew anything about the green bit of paint on his dad's truck. Oops. Glad he and his dad are good at forgiving others and especially glad I didn't lose my future husband over the ordeal.

Secondly, I hit a vehicle at the bank while trying to parallel park in my black Ford T-bird about 4 years later. I should have known better. I was the one in Drivers Ed in high school who hit the orange cones while practicing to parallel park. Good news, though. I don't parallel park anymore. It's just too difficult when objects are closer than they appear.

And then, the saddest of all. I was backing the T-bird out of our driveway and didn't realize my green Malibu was still parked at the curb in front of our house the same year. I backed the T-bird out and smucked the Malibu. Ouch. Two more dents. Fortunately they were VERY small dents that could be popped out.

So with this background information, you can see my apprehension at driving the big truck. This is why I drive a mid-size SUV. This is also why I wear glasses when I drive.

So how did my week go in the big truck? Thank the Lord I didn't hit anything or anyone and my SUV has since been repaired. And now for a silly "shoe" story...

To be continued...

Jesus Freaks

I just love the questions that come out of the mouths of little ones. My youngest daughter, Doodle (nickname), asked me the other day out of the blue: "Mom, what does a Jesus Freak look like?"

I was taken aback for a moment at the question my six year old asked me. "Well, Doodle," I said, "they look like us."

I watched her face for a moment as she took this in. It was one of those faces that expressed her need for more information. "Well what is a Jesus Freak?" She then asked. Wow, what an awesome opportunity to have a great conversation reiterating the need we all have for our Savior. My girls have grown up in a Christian home and know what Jesus did for us, but it's always an added bonus to be able to cement the truth into their minds with examples.

I figure Doodle must have heard about Jesus Freaks from the old DC Talk song by the same name. I remember DC Talk being one of the first Christian rock groups I listened to when I first became a Christian. Ok, now I'm feeling old...

Life at the Airport Part Two

My heart pounded as I raced across what seemed like miles and miles. My breath came in gasps and my eyes darted nervously from place to place in search of the one I was to follow. My heavy backpack thunked against my back and I raced to keep up with him. What if...

Ok, let me back up a bit. On my last blog, I spoke of life in an airport and how we were traveling across the country to promote "77 Ways Your Family Can Make a Difference: Ideas and Activities for Serving Others." We had a flight delay, finally boarded the plane, landed safely for our connecting flight...but then as I glanced down at my wrinkled flight plan paper, I realized we had only 10 minutes to catch our connecting flight due to our hour and 15 minute delay.

This would not have been so bad if things had gone smoothly, but they didn't. We landed near Concourse F. I was ecstatic because we had been inadvertantly told by airport personnel that our gate would be from Concourse F. When we landed and checked the boards, we realized this wasn't the case, well not unless we were flying to Tallahassee or Mexico, in which case we weren't. No, in reality, we would be boarding our connecting flight out of Concourse C a mere three alphabets away. Now, with 8 minutes to spare, Lon and I looked at each other and knew what we must do. We've been married for 16 years and can read each other's minds at times (scary!) We must, in record time, reach our gate lest we be stuck in the airport for the next flight and suffer as Tom Hanks had in that airport movie he was in.

Lon grabbed our two suitcases and I fixed the large black backpack securely on my back. Did I mention that Lon has a bad back and I have a bad leg? Lon began to run, recalling his days as a track star in high school. Although athletic, I was never a track star, but I recalled how I am always "running late" to appointments, school, and my children's activities. With such memories, we RAN through the airport. Now, if it was empty, running through Chicago O'Hare would be no big deal. But this wasn't the case. The airport was EXTREMELY crowded. I'm talking shoulder to shoulder people. This is still such a culture shock for Lon and I as we are such small town people. We don't see this many people at once in our town EVER. Herds of antelope, yes. Herds of people, no.

"Excuse me!" we said nearly every minute. The worst is when you get locked behind a group of very slow-moving folks with a 9 hour layover and you can't get around them. Fortunately, Lon is not a small man and he paved the way for both of us, yes, with more recollections of playing defensive end in high school football. (Why is it that in airports so many school memories come to mind?)

My heart began to pound and I tried desperately to keep my focus on Lon, who at times was far ahead of me. I know now that next time I will convince him to wear a flourescent green shirt so he stands out. The heavy backpack (about 30 pounds) thunked against my back. I prayed constantly that if it was the Lord's will, we would reach Concourse C and catch our flight. I didn't even want to think about missing my TV appearance.

It was as if we were in a movie - as if the bad guys were after us as we ran through the airport to take the highly-confidential, world-saving, government information to the FBI, who was waiting for us in Concourse C. Our informant had told us Concourse F, but now come to find out, our informant was really on the side of the bad guys... All we needed was that highly dramatized music.

Have you ever run on those little moving sidewalks? It's not easy. Have you ever catapulted over suitcases with rolly wheels? So many times I nearly tripped over the suitcases of others. Lon jumped over them as if he were jumping hurdles in track and field. I desperately looked for a way around them, and then stumbled over them wishing there was thick plush carpet in the airport. Every time we would think we were close to our destination, there would be another sign with an arrow. We considered the subway, but after seeing the line, knew that to continue to run was our best method.

After a mile of running, we reached Concourse C. Thank the Lord we had two, yes two, minutes left of boarding our flight. Have you ever been out of breath from sheer anxiety and then were gasping for air in the closed-up confines of a plane?

Phew! Thankfully we reached our plane and made it to our destination. It's always amazing to me that even in the small things of the threat of missing a plane, God is there, guiding us through it all.

Airport Life

Have you ever had an exciting experience in an airport? If so, then you will be able to identify with what happened to me recently.

My husband Lon and I were on our way across the country promoting my most recent book "77 Ways Your Family Can Make a Difference." At our first airport, we were sure to arrive early (who knew 10 years ago that we'd someday have to arrive 70 minutes before boarding?!) It takes quite awhile just to get through security. I laughed (to myself) when the security officer opened my husband's carry-on suitcase and found, much to his surprise, a roll brush, a hair straightener, and a makeup bag. I quickly assured the security officer that it was my stuff, I just hadn't been able to fit it into my suitcase. (I'm looking forward to the day when carry-ons can include a suitcase large enough to actually fit something besides a pair of socks!) The security guard nodded and glanced at my husband with his buzz haircut. It was better than the last time in the airport two weeks prior when Lon accidentally dropped my suitcase and my underwear fell out. That was quite embarrassing.

Almost an hour after being in the airport, I glanced up at the board that indicates flight schedules when much to my horror (but not surprise), I realized our plane had been delayed an hour and 15 minutes. Sighing, I returned to my seat and informed Lon of the news. (He didn't believe me - why is it that husbands are so suspicious? He had to get up and verify for himself that I was right :) We would have to do something to busy ourselves for a little bit longer. Lon and I were already bleary-eyed from busy schedules and an early-morning awakening to drive the two hours to the airport. However, trying to sleep at the airport is futile.

I decided to get up and get something to eat. After all, by the time we reached our connecting flight, it would be two hours later. I know my body well enough to know that if I fly on an empty stomach, life for me and the fellow passengers will not be pleasant. (Yep, I'm the girl who was always sick on the merry-go-round in elementary school, but I'll save that story for another time). By the way, why are the barf bags paper instead of plastic?

In line at the pizza counter, I began to laugh to myself when two gentlemen were discussing the delay in the plane's arrival with much confusion. "But the board said the flight would only be 20 minutes late a few minutes ago," insisted the man with the large cowboy hat.

"Well now it's' up to an hour and and 15 minutes," said his comrade, shaking his graying head.

The cowboy hat man shook his head in disbelief. "We won't look at the board again," he said. I think he was afraid that the next time he looked it would say the flight was 6 hours late. I wanted to tell the men that they were actually looking at the wrong flight. The flight they were to board (and I knew this because I had heard them speak of their destination - writers are excellent eavesdroppers) was truly an hour and 15 minutes late and had been for quite awhile. Another flight and the wrong one - but the one they were looking at - was really 20 minutes late. But I didn't get the chance to tell them.

So back at my seat with a large piece of pepperoni pizza, I settled back and watched as Lon changed settings on his cell phone and checked for messages. I love to watch people in the airport because I get excellent ideas for characters for my novels this way. I take a few different characteristics from several different people and wam, I have the perfect main or secondary character. Looking around at the folks in the airport also gives me a chance to pray for them. Nope, I didn't know anyone there, but I could pray for them that whatever they were going through in their lives that God would help them with it. Or better yet, I prayed for their salvation.

Another way to pass time at an airport is to see how many people look like people you know. Together, Lon and I saw about six people who closely resembled people we knew. We tried to guess where they were going and what they were doing. Lon gives himself much less credit than he deserves. He's actually quite creative. I contained myself from drawing carricatures like I had when we were on a Greyhound Bus one time on a VERY long journey due to an emergency airplane landing. I'll tell you that story another time because it's quite comical. But since this is a story about airport life, I'll hold off on life on a bus.

Finally, the time had come when the plane begins boarding. At 1:45 instead of 12:30, Lon and I boarded the plane to our connecting flight. I settled into the seat of the plane, prayed for safe arrival, and marveled at the cottony blanket of clouds below us. All was well until we landed in Chicago for our connecting flight. That's when I glanced down at our flight schedule and realized we had exactly 10 minutes before our next flight left...
to be continued...