OMG

“Too Cool!” I said.
“Moooooooooom,” gasped The Pea in disgust. “We don’t say ‘too cool’ anymore. That’s SO last year. Or even two years ago, like when I was five!”
“Good to know,” I said.
“Now we say OMG.”
“OMG? What’s that?” I asked, as if oblivious to the year 2010.
“It’s Oh My Goodness, MOM, and it means the same thing as ‘too cool’” replied the Pea.
“Ah.” I said.
“Now let’s practice, you try it Mom.”
“OMG!” I gasped in true Valley Girl Gag Me With A Spoon fashion. (I am a child from the ‘80s).
“Mom, I’m not trying to be rude, but you sound like a brat. Let’s try one more time.”
“O.M.G.” I said, in my best non-brat, yet too cool voice.
“Not bad, but it needs work….”

(Cue Theme From Mission Impossible...)

Helmet on head, roller skates on feet, it’s not just housesitting—it’s a secret intelligence operation. Skate, skate, skate down the avenue. Always alert, always aware. The Bug is in disguise: grey T-shirt, black shorts. (Team Lightning plays tonight, a convenient front…) Clandestine mission: obtain correspondence from secured container.
This is a team effort. The Pea holds the key. (And I’m not speaking metaphorically, she’s literally clutching the mailbox key.)
The Bug surveys the area for approaching vehicles. The coast is clear. She waves on the Pea with their double-secret thumbs up “Let’s Cross the Street Now” signal. They arrive at the designated drop spot. The Bug stands watch, the Pea tries the key. The Bug waits and watches. The Bug wonders what’s taking so long. The Bug glances back toward her partner. The Bug flips the key over. The Pea tries once more. Jackpot.
Thankfully, with four hands between them, they balance confidential financial paperwork, strategic travel documents, and pizza flyers. Skate, skate, skate back to the secret lair – marked clearly with sidewalk chalk on the driveway.
Correspondence and key deposited on doorstep for lower rung agent (read into this: Me) to place on countertop indoors.
Mission Completion.

Clanging On Pans & Shouting Out Windows

Shout joyfully before the LORD, the King. (Psalm 98:6) My children are very deliberate in their praise to God. The Bug will often write prayers, or compose songs of praise. Once when I was changing her bed sheets, I came across some paper… torn from a spiral notebook, complete with the scraggly edges… where she had written out prayers of forgiveness, and guidance and petition. It’s not uncommon for me to find her surrounding by overturned pots and pans. She beats on her drum set, chanting whatever words of praise happen to enter her mind at the moment.
The Pea is forthright, as well. Sometimes, during evening tuck-in, we’ll finish reading a story and she’ll say, “Mamma, I feel like we need to worship, NOW.” At which point she leads a song of praise, or prayer or both as we sit on her bed in our pajamas. (Knowing full well, if we do not worship, the Pea will not be able to fall asleep). It’s something she HAS to do. She can’t keep silent, she needs to worship.
Recently, I’ve been reading the gospels concerning Jesus’ return to Jerusalem, betrayal, trials and crucifixion and resurrection. When He entered Jerusalem, riding on a donkey, a crowd of followers began to praise God in a loud voice. The Pharisees (the religious leaders who were more concerned about following various rituals/laws than they were about loving their God and neighbors) called out, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!!” But Jesus answered them, “I tell you that if these should keep silent, the stones would immediately cry out.” (Luke 19:40) As we were driving along, the Pea mid-conversation, said, “Mamma, I need to roll down the window!” I thought she wanted some fresh air. She rolled down the window and shouted out, at the top of her lungs, “I love you Jesus! I love you God! I love your creation!” and then she rolled the window back up. “Mamma, it’s just something I HAD to do, right now.”
Oh that I would be so filled with wonder of God that I can’t help but shout my joy before the LORD…

One Minute More a.k.a. Tucking In My Firstborn

One Minute More

I know she’s asleep
Long day of third grade
Soccer practice
Chicken nugget supper
Sidewalk chalk with neighbor kids
“Bath time!”
Scramble inside, head upstairs
Trail of muddy clothes
Sudsy bath bubbles
Strawberry shampoo
Warm hooded towel
Hand-me down Jammies
“Brush your teeth!”
My night to tuck in The Bug
Bible verse and bedtime story
Sleep tight
Kiss on cheek, covers under chin
She’s fast asleep
Time for me to head downstairs
Not yet
One more look
One more intoxicating moment
One minute more

The Fertile Crescent & A Calling

Dear Ms. Harper,
It’s Teacher Appreciation Week. My daughter, the Bug, checked out a book on Egypt from the library. Last night she was reading to me about papyrus. I flashed back to Language Arts/ Social Studies at Meyzeek Middle School. I mean, it was like I was THERE. It took my breath away. Remember when we were studying Mesopotamia, and the Tigris and Euphrates, the Fertile Crescent? And you had us construct a book out of construction paper for a child to read? We were to include a map, information on scribes, papyrus. OH MY STARS did I work on that book. I cut and pasted and wrote in my best handwriting. I bound the pages together by looping light blue yarn through punched out holes on the spine. I took my creation up to the front of the class, where you were seated on a stool watching your flock. You smiled and told me I had found my calling. You said I was going to be an author someday, and you wanted the first autographed copy of my book. Truth be told, I replay that moment often in my mind.
Until then, I’d never thought of writing as a calling. I mean, I’ve loved to write since I could scribble on an empty page. In second grade, I devoured The Chronicles of Narnia and wondered if someday I could create a book for a child to get lost in? Mom and Dad (my biggest fans) were forever giving me notebooks, steno pads, journals (still do!) to write in. I carried them everywhere. (A trait –big smile-- I've apparently passed on to the Bug, who refuses to leave the house without at least one notebook.)
Anyway, I’m not sure if you still live in Louisville. But I want you to know that I am working hard on writing a story that will be published someday. And when it is, I’ll look you up! Because I'll be setting aside a special copy:
For Ms. Harper, Who Helped Me Hear My Calling.
Happy Teacher Appreciation Week!
I appreciate you more than you know,
Leigh Peyton