Carmel, strawberry, chocolate, vanilla. Four flavors between five people and I slightly regretted the decision to leave the lactaid pills behind.
But four melting milkshakes in four unlidded cups with children who love to play with the straws as much as sip from them and, well, something was bound to happen.
Something like drips of strawberry shake ending up over shirt. Pull out a napkin. And then more drips of strawberry shake on the same shirt plus the seat. Wipe with the napkin plus parental admonishment to strawberry shake sipper. And then, insert parental sigh of exasperation, even more huge drips of strawberry shake over shirt, seat and shorts. New napkin, please.
Which led to a further something....lacking a garbage in the immediate area where we were sitting, Dave and I playfully chucked the shake-dampened napkins at each other. We are great examples for our children. And, unable to resist joining in, our strawberry-shake-sipper tossed a piece of a napkin which unknowingly had a huge gob of strawberry shake on it, right at Dave. It landed on his shorts. In a rather, delicate, area. Which made it hard to stifle the laughter. I laugh even as I write this.
Unfortunately for our strawberry shake sipper, this was the last straw in the series of strawberry shake incidents. So there was a little one-on-one parent child conference, in which, I'm sure, it was made very clear that we are to sit quietly with our shakes, not play with the straw, and we do not, under any circumstances, throw napkins at other people. Even if your parents are doing that very thing. Because they aren't doing it to have fun, they are showing you what you are not supposed to do. All very straightforward and clear. Right?
However, there was grand finale to the milkshake mishaps. While Dave was in the parent-child conference, Ben was diligently trying to consume the rest of his vanilla shake. Having no success with the straw (the vanilla shake was surprisingly heat-resistant), he smartly tipped the cup back to swallow it down. Except, he tipped it too far and it ended up all over his face. Including his eyes.
I hope he'll forgive our laughter over his milkshake mask. We just couldn't help it. Thankfully, it wasn't strawberry.
And then, after all that, a light bulb moment. Mom commented that we should bring a spoon for next year. Spoon? Did someone mention spoon? I have one of those. Heck, I have more than one. Right here in our picnic backpack...
After several sandpaper months, this weekend (thus far), is salve to my soul. Not that there weren't sandpaper moments as the Lord continues to slough of my very rough edges, but He knows how to heal those raw wounds with balm that soothes, encourages, uplifts.
It is in these moments when I whisper I am unworthy. So I count these gifts, humbled in spirit, in awe of a King who has given me more that what I deserve. As if His life was not enough.
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| In my pride, this is how I sometimes treat the gift of God. Lord, keep me humble of heart. |
These astounding gifts:
- after school pool time, slip sliding, diving splashing
- a new-used bike for Brie
- new friends for our arrows
- abundant zucchini from neighbors baked into chocolate zucchini muffins and cranberry pecan zucchini bread
- a translator to help us communicate with the Bo's
- gliding, not rushing, through the day
- birthday picnic celebration with our church family
- Tim & Lauren across the street
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