Holding Hands

The moon is singing lullabies to all the houses. –Jordan Silvera; Age 4

Driving home after running errands, Jordan, Madelynn and I were mesmerized by the moon. 

“Mom, we went to three stores tonight, right? We went to the medicine store, the ink store and the guitar store.  That’s three not four, right?” Jordan was summarizing our list of stops for the evening.

“Yes, Jordan,” I affirmed.  “We went to the pharmacy at Walgreens, and to Office Max to buy some ink cartridges for Mommy’s printer and finally to the guitar store where we got you a new soft case for the guitar Santa brought you…a guitar just like your Daddy’s.”

“I like my guitar” my son confirmed.  The inexpensive case had backpack straps.  He looked adorable wearing it out of the store, balancing his junior size guitar. 

Maddi piped in, not wanting to be left out, “Look!  Mom!  Burger King!”

I laughed, “I see it, Maddi.  That is actually Arby’s, but it is a similar idea – just no playland.” 

Shawn never wanted our kids to be addicted to fast food.  I was pleased that my three year old didn’t know the difference between fast food signs.  We had read a study together that kids by the age of two can recognize McDonald’s before ever knowing the President of the United States.  Any flashing neon sign means “restaurant” to my daughter.

We sat and read books for bedtime.  One was a bi-lingual book about Mexican jumping beans.  We learned the word mano tonight, which means hand.  We held hands for prayer time. 

Little ones, your hands are a part of my life and I have my hand in yours.  I hope our life-walk is always full of moons and lullabies and the sweet music of guitars.  I hope we have fun eating at restaurants or running errands or telling each other our favorite stories.  I hope to always be close, holding hands when we pray and when we’re scared and when we smile.

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