Merry Christmas

Multitude Mondays #581-595

Our rush to the ER and the following sickness that is still lingering in our home really have depleted me this past week. I went to bed last night, my body aching with exhaustion. Right now, I would rather be back in my bed. But, the boys are awake, neglected housework is smugly grinning in triumph and I really need to figure out what we are going to eat this week.
Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts says that Thanksgiving always precedes the miracle. I could use a miracle today. So here we go:

581) sleep, sleep, sleep
582) no vomiting in the last 24 hours
583) a soft and clean bed to sleep in
584) new Christmas ornament with a picture of Max on it that makes me laugh out loud every time I look at it
585) Michi is home
586) being able to go to the grocery store
587) Skype calls with Mom and Dad
588) Skype calls with Andrea and Clemens
589) Joey's incredible hard work
590) Joey being rewarded for his hard work
591) heat in the house
592) wine from Austria
593) English Muffins with butter and hot tea
594) time to write with a specific event in mind
595) Will wearing underwear over his pajamas

Gratitude #570-580

570) grace that the cut was not worse
571) that Joey was already on his way home
572) for hospitals, doctors and nurses only 15 minutes away
573) for 7 stitches that bind the wound together
574) for restful nights
575) for Max's appetite coming back
576) for prayer for Max going to the Lord from many different people
577) praying with Joey for our family
578) that God's grace really is sufficient in need
579) being able to walk boldly into today knowing that God will supply all things
580) for help waiting for Joey last night - a burden lifted.

Advent 2011

So far Advent this year hasn't been quietly meditative. Honestly, I just have a lot of questions about a lot of different things. So this picture is a good representation of where we are as a family. Max is missing because of sickness and injury. The table is not cleared, but remnants from the day before still wait to be put away. It's a simple meal, but provided from the hand of God. The picture isn't even straight.
So Advent hasn't been romantic or idyllic or even clean. But God can handle the messy, right?
I am choosing to believe that God can handle my questions. He can handle my mouth that can spew venom. He can hold my heart that is broken at the sight of my son. He knows my tiredness at the thought of a possible rough night and my overwhelmed mind with its to-do lists.
So maybe it is in the messy that I can pray most authentically, "Oh come, oh come Immanuel." Maybe Advent isn't really supposed to be romantic after all. Maybe Advent is a desperate cry; a clinging to the goodness of God; and the watchful wait for our hope to become sight.

Multitude Mondays #559- 569

559) my book club
560) your patience, oh Lord, in me opening my hand to your will and timing of my writing
561) that God loves on me even when I don't choose to see it
562) forgiveness
563) belly laughter of anticipation coming from William
564) the aroma of a newly opened box of peppermint tea
565) this computer
566) our church- God's grace to us
567) little boys with home-made light sabers
568) Will's dimples
569) reading The Horse and His Boy to Max at nap time

Having a Four-Year-Old

Four years old. He is growing up so fast. I can hardly keep up. More and more of his personality is showing and I am in awe of who God has made him to be. I pray with all my heart that Joey and I raise him to look to God in all things and for all things.
In the meantime, I'll enjoy the superhero adventures we have together, the nap time readings of Charlotte's Web or some book from Narnia, the really weird humor that comes with his age, the dandelions he picks for me to put into my hair (that later fall out of my hair and freak me out because they feel like bugs), the burping followed by gales of laughter, and the endless questions.
And when I forget to enjoy because of a cluttered kitchen, or an empty fridge that needs to be stocked, or a floor that needs to be swept, I hope that I am reminded that love is always patient first. Patient to see what the true need is. Patient enough to put my own to-do list aside. Patient to be the best Super Woman I can be (which does not involve any of the tasks mentioned above, but rather fighting imaginary bad guys and following my four-year-old Spiderman's lead.)

Clean and Folded!

Just thought I would share an accomplishment of the day. Clean and folded laundry. You gotta celebrate the small things when tomorrow there will probably be another Mt. Everest of laundry avalanching onto my floor.
Hurray for getting something done during nap time!

Multitude Mondays # 541-558 (on Tuesday)

541) Making the Adventkranz (advent wreath)
542) Feeling closer to Austria because of the wreath
543) the scent of pine
544) Max, "I believe Jesus."
545) running
546) Will sleeping in
547) glittering frost on leaves - the world covered in diamonds
548) foggy mornings
549) Will's love of the picture book of animals
550) Singing "danke, dass du mich so liebst" upon Will's request
551) The hope of the Total Money Makeover by David Ramsey
552) dancing with Joe in the kitchen to "The Way You Look Tonight"
553) decorating the tree with the boys and Michi
554) Gulasch
555) dinner with friends last night
556) Dexter, Max and Will group hug
557) supporting Oneiry through Compassion International
558) Too Small to Ignore by Wess Stafford

Hope

It was five years ago today - a bloody show the size of a quarter, and thus began a very dark time. The baby was only six weeks old. Old enough for facial features to start forming and the heart to be beating around 100 times a minute. Old enough to have captured my heart.
I hardly had baby when suddenly it was gone. The cramps of the miscarriage didn’t even come close to the spasms of my heart that manifested themselves through hot tears, numbness, anger and collapsing in the light of the moon in the front yard in bitter grief. For a while I wondered how I was ever going to go through Advent and celebrate Christmas when I felt loss in every cell of my body. But it turned out that Advent began to heal me.
The moon has always been a sign of God’s faithfulness to me because I have always been able to see it’s orb regardless of which continent I have been on. And so, getting out of the car after spending a very lonely time in an ER corridor because I had been forgotten, I was surrounded by the glow of the moon and knew that I was not forgotten by God. In trying to sooth my aching body in the shower the next morning, I couldn’t help but whisper- sing, “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” It comforted me just as much as the running water.
Advent that year taught me what it is we are really waiting for. It is the hope and comfort that comes from knowing the God with us. Knowing Emmanuel. I was able to celebrate the birth of a baby even after the death of my own because the child that was born 2000 years ago, lived so that death does not have the final word. That is what I clung to, and that is what I rejoiced in even with an ache in my heart that has never quite vanished.
My prayer for you is that you find the hope of the King-child this Advent season.

Hoodies and Leaves

Multitude Mondays #524-535

524) not being in the accident yesterday
525) time with family
526) being back home
527) eggs in the fridge
528) being reminded of the goodness of God
529) being reminded to trust in the goodness of God instead of trying to fix hard and dark situations on my own
530) how trusting opens the doors and windows to peace
531) Advent...the glorious anticipation and waiting for the promised King
532) the sound of rain
533) how thanksgiving always precedes the miracle and that it happened in me this morning
534) eyes to see what was really important. learning to put on shoes and socks can wait.
535) hot tea and Lebkuchen

Multitude Mondays #509-523

A thought from A Holy Experience today:

"To bring the sacrifice of thanksgiving means to sacrifice your understanding of what is beneficial and thank God for everything because He is benevolent.

A sacrifice of thanks lays down our perspective and raises hands in praise anyways – always.

A sacrifice is by definition not an easy thing.

There is this: We give thanks to God not because of how we feel – but because of Who He is."

I don't feel very grateful today, but there is always room for thanksgiving.
And so my list continues...

509) health
510) open windows
511) excitement of seeing family
512) beauty of our new church building
513) a new German friend who lives close by
514) a very successful yard sale
515) getting my grocery bill for the entire week down to $68.00!!!
518) Lebkuchen
519) that God knows the why behind this weekend
520) mothers walking side-by-side and encouraging each other in their calling
521) Joey
522) a list of meals waiting to be made
523) homemade rolls

Small Disclaimer about Previous Post

After reading my post again I wanted to add that this is not the first time that I have been struck by the importance and significance of mothering. One thing that I have found with myself is that the learning never ends, even when I have already "learned" a certain thing. The learning is almost like an onion, where there is always yet another layer. And so yesterday's post is essentially a surrendering to what God is doing in my life in a deeper layer of the "mothering onion."
Also, mothering is not just hard work and fatigue. :-) It includes many precious, silly, happy, creative and treasure-for-always moments. For example, Will managed to sneak out the front door and into the rain and leaves falling from the sky this morning. I realized that he was outside right away, so I looked out the door and what I saw was a blur of curls zooming past the door over and over again, and a smile that communicated, "I just had to be outside right now, mom!" So I fully enjoyed watching Will enjoy and discover the magic of the Fall season.

Confessions of an Imperfect Mother

Lately, I find myself dreaming about many things, except mothering. I dream about saving hundreds of dollars each month because of my mad couponing skills. I dream about learning how to use my grandmother’s old singer sewing machine that was built in 1952, and making beautiful quilts. I dream about sponsoring more children through Compassion International. When the kids are awake, I dream about nap time and bed time, so I can get back to making Christmas gifts, and cleaning the house, and maybe reading and writing. I dream about running the 10k in Charleston this spring.
I dream and I dream, and I get very grumpy when my dreaming (or maybe I should call it my escaping) is interrupted.
Sickness has returned to our home, so interruptions include crankiness, snotty noses, restlessness and towering dishes. I was loading my dishwasher yesterday when this thought came to my head, “What if this is all I have called you to do?” I had to swallow. What if mothering is the sole task I am given here on earth? That question laid my soul bare, and my pride and discontentment both stood naked and ugly before me.
This round of discontentment had nothing to do with possessions, looks, gifting or travel. This round was all about calling.
I grew up proud to be a missionary kid, maybe not because of what my parents were doing, but because it set me apart from any other child in my country of origin. I was raised in a cultured city. I knew how to jaywalk. I spoke a second language fluently. I was the first missionary kid in Austria from our missionary organization to go through the entire Austrian school system. I could travel internationally on my own. In college, debates over cross cultural experiences made me chuckle and at times even sneer. They knew it in theory, but I had lived it! My background, my gifting and all my wonderful accomplishments seemed to set me up perfectly to do great things on this planet.
Not long after college, a ring was slipped on my finger, and I made the vow of forever. Two years later Joseph Maximilian was born, which officially made me a stay-at-home mom. I coped by joining a cosmetic business, even though I hardly wore make-up. If I could no longer shine as a teacher, I could shine as a business woman. Two years went by, and I found myself starved to really be at home; to engage fully in the life of my child; to bake bread; to transform our house into a home. William Chadrick was born, and that sealed the deal. It meant auf wiedersehen to lipstick and mascara.
Then yesterday afternoon, I was confronted with the question that I have possibly been running away from for the last four years. What if being a mother is all I am called to be in this world? I love being a mom. I know the pain of losing a child. I see the pain of women I know and love who long to hold their own child in their arms. And yet, my escaping actually means that I am insisting that it is not enough and that there has to be more out there for me to do. I have a feast laid before me in my mothering, and I crave chocolates and gummis.
A day later, after being confronted with the immeasurable worth and vulnerability of children in Wes Stafford’s book, Too Small to Ignore, my mind is a whirlpool of thought fragments, and I am wanting some clarity. And it hits me. What was the remedy to my discontentment of earlier this year? Wasn’t it thanksgiving? Wasn’t it acknowledging whatever God set before me? Hasn’t that led to my eyes opening in wonder to the beauty and action of God’s blessing on my behalf?
I have thanked God for my children. I have thanked God with tears that I am a mother. But I have never thanked him for assigning this task to me. One of the most important callings (and maybe the only calling) of my life stares me in the face every single day in the form of twenty fingers and toes, curls plastered to a snotty nose, pains in growing limbs, questions about this big world we live in, pitter- patter in the hall before dawn, the contents of my wallet thrown around the room, the desire to play super heros, the need of snuggles and a good book, and using the air intake as a piggybank. It is exhausting, and I really can’t do all the things I want to do. I can’t even do a lot of “Christian” work in my own city, let alone in a foreign country. But I can open my hands to the blessing, give thanks and build the kingdom within the walls of my home, so that my boys know that Jesus is here and know him.

So here is my first attempt:

Thank you, Lord
for entrusting two of your sweet children to my care.
that you have called me to minister to their needs.
for giving me the grace to see that I am called to a very significant task.
for gently showing me my sin, and restoring me.
that I can build your kingdom here and now, not just someday.
that you see and that you know.

Amen.

Multitude Mondays #497-508

497) boys taking naps
498) hot tea and rest for a sick mama
499) tissues
500) amazed and thankful to have already written down 500 things to be thankful for
501) Compassion International and their ministry highlight of Ecuador
502) using my imagination with Max (or should I say Spider Man) on the playground today. (The playground did almost seem like a rocket ship at one point.)
503) Will crunching through an orange and yellow lake of leaves
504) the abundance of food
505) a bunk bed for free right when we started to feel the need for one
506) God's faithful work in my heart even when I don't learn as much from his lessons as I think I should
507) learning to look for God in the mess
508) flowering Christmas cactus

Dying and Rising

This weekend was hard. It seems like it should have been wonderful. We transformed the office into a playroom for the boys and Joey built a train/car table for them.
But the boys are sick and emotional and just absurd at times.
Both boys do not have a lot of patience with each other at the moment.
I lost mine on Saturday (and I am still looking for it.)
I feel tired and empty and I long to mother well.
But I don't long to die to self when the rubber meets the road.
It's inconvenient and it feels like crap.
Just when I felt I was making some progress with this, this weekend happened, and the whole dying to self thing really seems to have flown out the window.
But isn't our hope that death is not the end?
So maybe dying to self is really rising with Christ, or better yet Christ rising in us.
Christ in us, the hope of glory.
Christ in me, the patience to see beyond tears and screams to the hearts of little boys.
Christ in me, the love to pick up another snotty tissue off the floor.
Christ in me, the kindness to listen to the unending flow of four-year-old lips.
Christ in me, the ability in give thanks (even if nap time ends up being short and attitudes are not much improved).
Christ in me, the strength in my weakness.
Christ in me, the fullness of life.

This I long for.
Christ.

The Lost Ring

It was one of those days this summer. The boys were driving me crazy, and the only solution was to let the great outdoors work its magic. Who knew it takes so much work just to take off clothes to go play in the sprinklers. Little feet were impatient, making little voices fussy. The number one mission was to lather them in sun screen and get them out the door. I took off my ring, placed it beside me on the couch and beckoned one of the boys over, then the second, and then the third for we had a visitor that day. Mission accomplished, I turned to grab my ring, and it was gone. I asked if any of the boys had seen it, but the answer was negative. At that point I was more desperate to get the herd out the door, that I was sure in my head that the ring would turn up once I had time to really look.
At nap time, I started looking all around, and the ring was nowhere to be found. It had vanished. I wasn’t nervous about what Joe would say, but I was sad because it is the only ring I have. Opting for just one ring six and a half years ago when we said, “I do,” was a way to cling to some of my Austrian ways and a way to cut costs.
Joey and I tore up the house looking for the ring, and then went to bed with plans to look through all the duct work under the house the next day incase Will had thrown it down into one of the vents. I went to bed, my finger feeling naked.
The next morning, I got in the shower, and eventually started to pray. “Lord, I know a ring is not the most important thing in the world, but it means a lot to me, and it’s the most expensive piece of jewelry I own. I really want to find it.”
Once out of the shower, I found myself being rushed along by the demands of little boys. It was going to be a hot day, so the most comfortable and easiest shirt to wear would be the blue tank top. It was hidden under a pile of laundry in my bedroom. I flung it onto my bed as I raced to get something else. Once I turned my attention to the shirt again, I started to unfold it, and there sitting inside the shirt that had been buried underneath a pile of clothes at least for 3 days, was my ring. I slipped it on my finger and fell to my knees in tears of thanksgiving. To this day I do not have an explanation to the location of the ring. But I do know that I have a God who knows my desires and answers my prayer.

Bright Angel Trail

I was too tired today to figure out how to put these pictures in order so they have ended up in no order at all. I will do my best to explain where and when they were taken. The picture of Sarah and me at the trail head is actually the "after" picture. It was taken when we reached the top of the South Rim again after hiking all day. The 2nd picture of us at the trail head was taken before the hike. We hike to Indian Gardens, which is half way down into the canyon. It was a 12 mile hike round trip.
This is the lookout point from Plateau Point, where we ate our lunch and then turned around to hike back to the top of the rim.

These two pics were taken at Indian Garden. It is amazing the difference water makes. Everywhere during the hike all we saw were cacti and shrubs. Then suddenly we heard the trickle of water the closer we got to Indian Garden. Once there, we had to walk through reeds, grass and trees. It was absolutely amazing, and the shade was a welcome luxury.

I took this on a water break on the way back up. It made me think of when Moses asked to see God, and God put him in a crevasse of a rock and covered him with his hand as he passed by.


If you look to the bottom right of this picture you can see a little trail on the plateau. That was the trail we hiked after we reached Indian Gardens and went to Plateau Point.
Sarah and her cactus.


A small update on the toes: Even three weeks after this hike, they are still turning deeper shades of purple and black.

Ugly Toes

I'm sure you really wanted to see my feet. (Especially Sigi.) These toes are the result of two things. The first being the Bright Angel Trail at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Pictures are soon to follow. It was a 12 mile hike round trip, and it only took us half way down into the canyon. It was absolutely amazing. My mistake, however, was that I did not trim my toenails, so going downhill really took its toll on my toes. It has been about a week and a half since the hike, and I am still feeling the effects in my body.
As painful as my toes are, especially after a full day of taking care of the boys, I am almost thankful for the bruising because they remind me that I really was at the Grand Canyon. And because I don't get to hike or be as active as I would like, bruised and blistered toes make me feel tough. :-)

The second reason for these toes is William. The bruising was already in place on my left foot due to the hike. A few evenings ago, however, Will threw a fit, which included stomping his feet. One of his heels fell full force against my toe. The deep discoloration, the extent of the bruising (and a few swallowed tears) are thanks to him.

So there you go. Now you know the reasons for my ugly toes.

Sunrise, Sunset

From the rising of the sun...

... to the going down of the same...

...the Lord's name is to be praised.
Psalm 113:3

Returning from a Journey

Light of the full moon

reflected off the tops of clouds

creates a sea of silver mist

And I sail across this ocean

of floating water far above terra

hardly knowing up from down

I'm somewhere between adventure and home

wishing they would collide

This journey has taken me

from the inner depths of canyons

to the heights of planet's orb

from the dryness of a parched soul

to the saturation of grace overflowing

It has left me in awe of Creator Savior

and I have found rest

The Orange Dish

"I want some dry cereal for breakfast while I watch some cartoons," Max said.

As usual I went to the closet to get the orange bowl for him. I was about to pour the cereal when I heard his voice calling out from the living room, "I want the orange bowl, Mom!"

For a second I was a little annoyed. The same thing happens every morning. If he eats cereal, he wants the orange bowl. If he eats eggs, he wants the orange plate. In my mind I thought, "Why doesn't he get that I know what he wants. He doesn't have to ask for the orange dish. I already know he wants it."

As soon as I thought the words "I already know," my mind went to Jesus' words.

"But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or "What shall we wear?' For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all." (Mt. 6:30-32)

I don't think Jesus is saying that we shouldn't ask. I think he is saying don't frantically try to acquire what we need (even want). Don't worry about it. We don't have to try to remind God. God knows.

And instead of God being annoyed with me asking him over and over again for the things we need, he gently reminds me that he loves me so much more than the birds and the flowers. (I know for a fact that the birds are well taken care of because they are becoming rather plump in my back yard as they eat seeds and fallen pecans.)

Just like I know Max desires the orange dish, God often provides what I need even before I ask him for it. He is a good parent.

I don't know what you need today.

But don't forget:

God knows.

Silent Tears

This Saturday, Max's soccer game was canceled because of weather. We did not find out this was the case until we arrived at the soccer field and it was deserted. We explained to Max what was going on, and he did not understand why a thunderstorm in the morning is reason to cancel the best sport ever. I can't blame him because it wasn't raining anymore. It was also very clear that he was very disappointed. He became quiet after that and after about 5 minutes Joey and I looked in the backseat to see our dear Max with huge, hot and silent tears streaming down his face.

Today I received an email saying that the school I was potentially going to be teaching at, did not receive the grant it needed to offer the class I was probably going to teach. It feels like I have huge hot silent tears streaming down my heart. This job seemed ideal. It would have been in the evenings, it would have paid well, and it would have been a nice outlet for me. With Joey's job situation the way it is, an extra income would have been very helpful.

So now we are back to square one. I am disappointed, but there has been something I have learned during this economic recession. And that is, God is God regardless of the economy. I have seen God provide over and above for us in the last few months.

Ann Voskamp (blogger at aholyexperience.com) said not too long ago, that instead of worrying we should wonder at how God is going to provide.

The teaching job did not work out. So now I wonder what God has in store for us.

I'll let you know.



(Btw, the baby seen in the picture is William and the cry was not silent.)

The Rainbow Promise

The first thing Noah did was to thank God for rescuing them, just as he had promised.
And the first thing God did was make another promise. "I won't ever destroy the world again."
And like a warrior who puts away his bow and arrow at the end of a great battle, God said, "See, I have hung my bow in the clouds."
And there, in the clouds - just where the storm meets the sun - was a beautiful bow made of light.
It was a new beginning in God's world. It wasn't long before everything went wrong again but God wasn't surprised, he knew this would happen. That's why, before the beginning of time, he had another plan - a better plan. A plan not to destroy the world, but to rescue it - a plan to one day send his own Son, the Rescuer.
God's strong anger against hate and sadness and death would come down once more - but not on his people, or his world. No, God's war bow was not pointing down at his people.
It was pointing up, into the heart of Heaven.

(taken from The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones)


It stormed this evening, and Max found the rainbow pictured above outside our front door. This is the first one he has discovered on his own. He was really excited.

3-year-old Max at the Beach

kung fu

learning to body surf.


is it just me, or is max just a really cool kid?

Grateful

This morning I am grateful for a new day.
Yesterday was not a good day. Parenting was difficult. I didn't feel good. The weather was weird. An egg was dropped on the kitchen floor. The boys fought. Laundry mounted. Joey had to work late. It was a rough day.
Yet in the end of that hard day, God gave a beautiful sunset that set the sky on fire. Endless shades of oranges, pinks, purples and blues illuminated the sky. Thinking back on it, it seems like God was saying, "See, even in the midst of hard day, I give beauty."
So here I am at the dawn of a new day, with the chance to see beauty in what seems like might be another hard day. But I know that grace will be new again today just as surely as the sun came up again this morning. I hope I take time to see it, receive it, and love through it.
Open my eyes, Lord!
Amen.

Mr. and Mrs. Blizzard

I just witnessed the lonely march of a newborn widow. Last night we were awaken by our dog barking madly, and we came to find out it was because a firetruck was at our neighbor’s house. Deep down we both guessed what was happening, but it wasn’t confirmed until early this morning when I saw our neighbor as I was strapping the boys into the car.
“Dad passed this morning around 3:00,” he said, the emotion clearly catching in his throat. He swallowed hard almost as if he was trying to undo what he just said.
“Mama will let you know how it all happened.”
“Please give her our condolences and please let us know if there is anything we can do,” I heard myself saying. It sounded hollow. Then I drove to church.
Making lunch I saw her, the woman whose marriage vow was fulfilled in the darkness of a new day. Leaning heavily upon the arm of her daughter she walked to a car. I do not know where they were going. For her, I am sure it is into the unknown. Decades of oneness have come to an end, and so she puts one foot in front of the other and just walks. She is walking through the valley I never want to walk through. The one that is dark and scary and lonely. The one without him.
I do not know their story. My guess is it wasn’t always great because what marriage is always bliss? But the point is, the stress, the hard times, the hurt feelings did not end the marriage. They walked together until the end. That is something you don’t see every day, and it stands as a pillar for me to see every time I look out my kitchen window and live. It challenges me to love patiently and passionately and fiercely until “death do us part.”

2nd Soccer Game

Max enjoyed his second game this morning. His team played against the Geckos. The weather in Columbia dropped by 30 degrees yesterday, so it took his team a while to wake up and warm up this morning. There were a lot of tumbles, running toward the wrong goal, using hands and day-dreaming. It was awesome.
Max has had a cold since Monday, so he valiantly ran up and down the field with a tissue in hand. We didn't see much action from him in the first half, but during the second half, he scored twice. Joey had the biggest grin on his face. He also tripped his same teammate twice as the little guy was trying to score a goal. He never did it on purpose. It just happened.
Max also had a guest in the crowd, namely Michael Spicher. This was a huge honor considering that Spicher had tickets to the World Cup in South Africa and ended up not going. Thanks Spicher for coming!!!
Will spent most of the game sitting on a blanket on the sideline shredding a Styrofoam cup.
In the end, the Kangaroos did it again and won 5 to 3.

Will Chad

If you have not met Will or have not seen him in a while, this picture pretty much sums him and his personality up.
Whatever he does, he does 100%.
He teases his older brother full force, but loves him with all his heart. Whenever Max is playing with trains, you know that Will will break the track at some point. But whenever Will comes to get a snack (like a cookie, a piece of cheese, etc.) he always asks for one for Max, too.
If Max is crying, Will is very distraught until Max is all better.
He has started pointing and waving with his pointer finger and saying, "no-no!" It is the cutest thing, but he says it about things he is not aloud to touch as he is touching them.
He loves the characters from Cars and Charlie the train, and dogs and chickens and babies.
Lately he is known to sneak out the front door or climb into the hen house.
He loves to snuggle and hug and give wet kisses. He loves to sing the B-I-B-L-E and shout, "Bible" at the end of the song.
He loves hotdogs and is known to eat 2-3 at a time.
So that is sweet William in a nutshell.
We wouldn't trade him for the world.

1st Soccer Game- Kangaroos!

Warming up with the team (and Will) before the game.
(Notice the kangaroo hanging from the top of the goal, so the kids knew which goal to run toward!)

A few seconds before he scored his second goal of the game.

Soccer Stud.
(for Tati)

Go Kangaroos!!

Max loved playing soccer. He broke away from the rest of the kids three times and scored twice. Joey and I were quite surprised by how well he was able to dribble the ball. Thanks to Opa, Maxi's cleats make him really fast. When he was on the sideline, he cheered his team on and was so excited anytime they scored. I have to admit, his little team is really strong and big for three-year-olds. I think the Kangaroos might be going all the way this season!
:-)