Sunday entertainment with a 17 year old

Christian had just washed his car the day before and was admiring how clean and shiny it was. So shiny, that he could see his reflection in the door panel.

C: "Come here mom and look at how short I am."
C: "Ha,ha,ha,ha. Look at how short and fat YOU are.!"

C: "Take a picture!"

So I did, of course. Who wouldn't want a picture like this for their posterity?

(I truely believe that the Lord gave us children to keep us humble)

We have ourselves an Eagle.

An Eagle Scout, that is. And I'm related. Which is kind of saying something because Christian is the first scout to earn the rank of "Eagle" in our family. Apparently, that is a rank only 2% of scouters actually earn. And believe me when I tell you that I know why that percentage seems so low. Earning your "Eagle" is no easy task.

Most Eagle Scouts will tell you that they owed that achievement to the constant perseverance of their parents (i.e. mother). Not so, in Christian's case. Supportive and encouraging maybe, but this boy had scout and young men leaders that mentored him every step of the way and he followed it through to the end.

Unfortunately he didn't get to keep this eagle:

("impressive number of merit badges he has" the eagle seems to be thinking...)

"Impressive eagle," Christian and Erick seem to be thinking... (by the way...that screen at the front of the stage was where they showed the impressive slide show presentation put together by Christian's impressively talented sister, Hailee)

Christian, Scott, Nick and Nick supported each other....

Dick Pollei, scouter extraordinaire, presents the boys with the tradtional engraved pocket knife. "I can't wait until Dick demonstates how sharp this knife is by shaving a patch on his arm," Christian seems to be thinking...

Gabe is ready to start on his eagle project. We just have to figure out what that is exactly.
I love a boy in a uniform.
The cheering section...
Robert Gardiner will go straight to heaven for his service and sacrifice and goodness and perserverence on behalf of all of these boys.

I could not have asked for a better "villiage" -of which Robert was a large part-to help raise my children.
Savannah was one of Christian's favorite supporters.
And Henry... who raised 10 children of his own. I can't believe he came and sat in that HOT gym for an hour and a half to show his support to these neighborhood boys. Bless you, Henry.
"Impressive ice cream cups brought by Christian's impressive mother," these two seem to be thinking...
"I'm so glad I finished my eagle project so I could get my driver's liscense and not have to ride around on this scooter forever," Christian seems to be thinking... (Haha....)

Rethinking my love language

The presentation was on the 5 Love Languages. The lady giving the presentation explained that each of us has "a primary way of expressing and interpreting love." She went on to say that there are 5 key categories or languages that are universal and that each of us tend to identify primarily with one: Words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, receiving gifts or physical touch. Gabe and I went right to work accessing the family. (We felt pretty sure of everybody's love language except Brittney. She had us stumped.) Quite a few family members fell under the category of "words of affirmation." But mine?

A couple of days later, I reviewed this information with a friend. Ironically, we noticed a pattern of being drawn to people who do NOT speak your same love language. What is that all about? The presenter the week before assured us that we could learn to speak any language. I wasn't so sure. I continued my personal assessment and felt quite confident that I was very fluent in the language of "acts of service."

Fast forward to that same afternoon. Exhausted-I was trying to put one foot in front of the other in taking steps to preparing dinner. Entering the kitchen, I found 3 roses wrapped and lying on the kitchen counter. "Who are these for?" I yelled to Christian. "You!" Was the response. "Ya, right" I thought. This kid is always teasing me. "No. Really." I asked again. Same response. Christian rounded the corner and pulled out the card concealed underneath. It was addressed, "Mother."

Be still my heart. My 17 year old son had bought me flowers and written me a note. To his horror, I melted into a puddle of tears. To his credit, he still let me hug him.

I sent my friend a text a short time later... "Christian brought me flowers. I think I might be 'receiving gifts' after all." Or at the very least, capable of speaking other languages.

I always have wanted to be bilingual.