Sunday Sermon

One morning, approximately 2 weeks ago, after dropping Ava and the neighbor girls off at the elementary school, I drove on home through the 20 mph School Zone and I cried. Because that's what over-emotional, gestating mothers do when they consider the sweetness that is a School Zone.

People's precious babies walk, ride their bikes, drive in cars to school.  And as citizens, we slow our vehicles down to a crawl just to be extra careful not to squish somebody's baby (as Max would say).


Because our babies are so precious! I thought.


 Silly, I know. Who cries about School Zones? But that morning I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of our ability to create little people, and love them, and teach them, and keep them; an idea that I often take for granted.  But not that morning.  I cried and I was happy not to have an audience, because I knew I was being ridiculously lame. Though here I am telling you, because I'm not really embarrassed anymore.

Friday I cried right along with nearly every other mother in America, in shock and sadness.  Reality was too harsh and too real, while seeming completely unreal at the same time.  Someone shooting babies?  What has this world come to?

I thought about those mothers who'd kissed and waved their kids off to school, with time to spare or in great frustration because they were late.  In either case, completely unaware that their babies would not return home that day.

I wondered if there were any mothers lucky enough to have had a sick child that day. My Ava was home  with what we would come to find out was the flu.  Were there any lucky babies with the flu out there?

I am sad for the kids, the ones who were killed and the ones who weren't.  And most sad for the families that survive.  Their world has shattered and while we sympathize and feel sadness right along with them, our worlds will continue to spin.  We will go to work, and to the store, and to our Christmas parties.  We will get sad when we remember, but those poor families, they will not escape the sadness. They don't have to remember because they won't be able to forget.


A few days later I stood in the pharmacy line at Walgreens to pick up Tamiflu for our family's latest flu victim, Max.  The drive-thru line was endless and I hoped going inside would be quicker.  The line was no shorter. I stood behind a teenage girl, who when she got to the counter asked for "Plan B". She and her friend agreed that it was a great price and happily walked away with the purchase.  I nearly threw up in my mouth.

Because our babies are so precious!

What has this world come to?   A place where sick people do terrible things, a place where right is relative, a place where sad things happen everyday, a place where "good shall be called evil, and evil good."

People may argue over legislation, over blame, over cause.   A person's ability to make choices brings about consequences, good and bad.  But that ability is absolutely essential. And the truth to me, is that the sad consequences for so many of the poor choices we face in this world, are merely a symptom of something much greater.  All the money and all the laws and all the band-aids in the world cannot fix what is broken.

Needless to say, I've been a bit of a pessimist.

My take-away from my Sunday experience was this quote:

"Righteousness is the price of happiness and peace."

I have no control over any of the messed up stuff that goes on everyday.  The one thing I can control are my actions.  For peace and happiness in this sad world and in the Colton family bubble, the sacrifice of obedience to God's laws is well worth the cost.


 I guess it shouldn't surprise me, that of all that has been written for good or ill regarding this incident, I have found the most timely reassurance in these hundred year old hymns.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
their old familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet the words repeat
of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

                       -I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day


Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay
close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

                         -Away In a Manger


There is one great cure-all for all that's wrong in the world. We will celebrate His birth and His life in a few days time, and maybe even a little more than usual, I am so grateful for that.

Photos and Captions

Luke, the angel, ready for his preschool Christmas program

His part : "The Shepherds ran through the fields and ran through the town until they reached the stable and gathered around"

Pretty sure it was at least 70 degrees, but that didn't stop our fire and Christmas movie.

Looks like Fall.

The calendar says winter.

Santa Pic 2012

Bass Pro's free Santa and Christmas activities are our favorite.

Dan wants to wear his to work.

Sisters came to town and I only got one picture.

Told myself I wouldn't even attempt, but was making good progress on Ava's Christmas desk.

Right up until most life activities, including the desk redo, was halted by Influenza Type B.

 The reason I'll probably be calling in that prescription for Tamiflu for Max any time now.

Fastest Trip in the (Mid)West

4:30am Saturday morning, my alarm woke me in time to catch a 6:00am flight to Chicago.

By 1:00pm, after a leisurely breakfast with my sister Leah, and attending the sealing of her friends and their children, I was taking pictures of this sweet family in the 40 degree weather.

I was nervous but willing.  The cold played a leading role in our picture taking adventure.  Instead of taking our time and being creative or experimental, I felt rushed to get these freezing people back inside.  I still think we got some good ones, though, and I hope they like them.

When I grow up I'm pretty sure I don't want to be a wedding photographer.  That is one shoot you don't want to screw up, because if you do, it's not like you can go out the next weekend and try again.

A pit stop for lunch was followed by mad dashing and prepping of food for the reception, which Leah was in charge of.  Between chopping vegetables and arranging cheese trays, I would run into the church gym to take pictures of the decorations and the cake.

This deserving couple's friends were generously putting on the reception, and doing their best to make it the way it should have been, but wasn't, the first time around. That's one of the reasons I wasn't mad at Leah for volunteering me for the picture-taking task.  I was happy to contribute.

Taking pictures at the reception was definitely not my favorite.  I knew my camera was not up to the low-light task and I told myself ahead of time, and tried to accept, that I'd just have to use the flash. I also decided I wasn't going to take much at the reception.  Unfortunately, the couple had all kinds of requests and I found that I was taking pictures nearly the whole time, switching between lenses, cringing as the flash pictures evoked the same feelings as nails on a chalkboard.

When I wasn't taking pictures I ran back to the kitchen to help out my sister.

The beauty of our short day together was the reminder that while I may frequently feel like a fish out of water or a thug with no posse, I can get with my sister, not be doing anything in particular, and have the best time, laughing, working, talking, and feel like I am a neat person and she thinks so too.  (And like the luckiest dog on earth, both my sisters will be here this weekend. I cannot wait!)

By 11:00pm we finished the cleanup.

And at 11:30pm we were back at Leah's house where we both fell soundly asleep, completely and totally exhausted.

4:45am the next morning the alarm was ringing again and after a 26 hour stay and drive through the dark to Chicago, I was an open mouthed, big bellied, head bobbing sleeper on a plane back to Dallas.

 So tired, so excited for my sister-time this weekend, and happier than ever to be home to these hoodlums.

Max's 3 year Pictures

I'm not sure there's much left to say about him.

His three year pictures happened today as I realized that between the approaching cold weather and the busying of the schedule, it might be now or never.


**Blogger makes my pictures fuzzy unless you click to enlarge them.  I did figure out how to fix it in the HTML but I swear it makes this page load so much slower.  So click for clearness, if you desire.**

He is such a toad.

An adorable,

 naughty,

beautiful,

stubborn,

sweet, toad.

3 has brought with it the arrival of some new found drawing skills as well as his evil laugh, "Wa-hahaha!" (pictures and video to follow).

And I thank my lucky stars everyday that time hasn't been able to erase that delicious dimple.

I Have No Words

Ok, actually I do.

Yesterday morning I went to the mall.  I told the cashier at Stride Rite that the only sure-fire way to find something you've lost is to buy a replacement, and as I did, she slid the identical white and blue size 1 sneakers into the sack. The very same ones I bought three months ago, the exact double of the single that went "missing" last week.

While I did say those words, and I knew that Murphy's law could actually come into effect, I cannot explain my surprise when at home, later that same afternoon, Ava opened this ornamental lantern that sits in the formal living room, to find, the shoe.

It is understood, though not always observed, that this particular lantern is off limits to grubby children's hands.  So why then, should it have come as a shock to find it working so well for treasure stashing?

The mercy of it all, is that the new shoes hadn't made it out of the box yet, and the receipt still waits in the bag. If Ava had run them through the mud prior to the discovery, let's just say Max's Christmas would have been severely compromised.