A little recap of some magnificent holiday moments.

Okay, I just lived through a 2 week holiday that was practically perfect in every way.  It can be a little nauseating to read about someone's perfect life, but I share this freely to encourage young mothers everywhere who are trying to stay this side of  insanity.  You see, it's all worth it...the sleepless nights, the constant noise, endless food needs, being on duty all the time to teach, discipline, entertain and inspire your little angels disguised as hooligans.  Because not only are there magic and delightful moments along the way, but someday, sooner than you think, you will have some moments straight from heaven when you realize there is no place you'd rather be than with your children.  They have grown into clever, humorous, good-looking, loving and talented friends and can they please stay a little longer?

So here are some highlights:

First we got Jacob.  He came the regular way, on an airplane.  He brought his guitar and his love and jokes.

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Then these two came kind of like a surprise.  Only I was prepared just in case my dreams came true, and they made it to my house, and surprise!  There they were on my porch.  I actually did not know when or how, but I really wanted it to happen and then it did.  Thank you darling people.

Joseph (my son-in-law) had 2 holiday requests; Poinsettia bowl and caroling. The football game was looking very bleak and then the defensive miracles started to happen and Kyle Van Noy, the BYU linebacker, started to score.  Best BYU bowl game ever and twice as much fun with family.

 Right after the exhilarating victory celebration (jumping around screaming)  we got Aaron.  Provo had now given up all the Stokers that are mine and our energy level launched off the charts.

The next day was spent knee-deep in sugar.  We had sugar cookie decorators, ginger-bread cookie icers, and a serious divinity concoctor.  Paul is in charge of divinity as it is a chemistry experiment, and everyone knows that I'm no chemist.  We gathered our treats and plotted our caroling route.  It was a modest route, because as loud as we are, there are only a few true extroverts in the group and caroling creates a fertile soil for awkward moments.  Inspired by Joseph's desire to serve his fellow man we pressed onward.  Okay, there was that one time when the neighbor's teenage son was doing all he could to keep his dog from bounding away while we finished our joyful song, and the other time when the people weren't home and we were just singing loudly and probably suspiciously to an empty house.  Other than that, we were met by cheerful and grateful receivers of our sincere if not perfect wish for a Merry Christmas.  One festive gentleman came out even though his wife and children were gone and sang the rest of the song with us.  (I'm going to do that next time carolers come.  That was nice.)

Saturday was a day of all days.  We arose early in the morning and filled the cars with the 9 people  in the house and travelled the hour to the Atlanta temple.  There we worshipped as a family together.  Such a joyful occasion.  I thought my heart would burst from happiness as we served our ancestors who had gone before  united in love and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Then we returned home to prepare for the "Whobilation."  I've gotten a few questions about this event so I'm going to spend a little time explaining it.  When Jacob and Eliza and Rebecca are together they have been known to have a theme party or two.  This was one of the things on Jacob's list and he loves the Grinch movie, and Eliza loves to dress up, and Rebecca likes to create, and Gabe likes to be with his siblings, and Aaron likes to have fun, and Andrew likes to party, and Joseph likes to make it great and so it began.  We googled "Who" and "Grinch" images and went to work.  Our friend had stopped by a few days earlier wearing his Grinch costume. (Your friends do that, right?)  We mentioned our whobilation and he offered to share so we were set for the Grinch.  Obviously Aaron was the Grinch, not because he hates Christmas, but because he loves silliness. We spent the afternoon creating Who hair and Who clothes, etc. The games kind of evolved, but Andrew turned out to be a great contributor of ideas.  We played "Jury duty, jury duty, blackmail" instead of duck, duck, goose.  We threw multiple stuffed animals rapidly off the second floor while the first floor participant tried to catch as many as he could in a laundry basket in 30 seconds.  This game was called "Dump it to Crumpit."  Jacob and Rebecca printed the words to "dahoo doray" so we could sing Who-ily around the tree.  We had a pillow case race and then the wrapping game.  Two teams each chose one person to gift wrap, taking their time to be creative.  We used 10 category cards from one of our other games and assigned them to the deserving team.  Some examples are prettiest, most intimidating, etc.  Eliza had been wrapped into a Christmas tree and Paul a dragon.  Paul won the most cards and a victory for his team.  We ate dinner and ended  by watching Jim Carrey's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  This party was more fun than we ever anticipated so next year don't hesitate to have a "Whobilation."

Sunday was a lovely day full of beautiful Christmas music.  We went to an "Evening of  Music" at a friend's house and completed our season by joining an impromptu rendition of the Hallelujah chorus sung with much enthusiasm if not much expertise.

Christmas Eve was as close to a dream come true as it ever has been.  The food was ready.  The house was clean.  The program was one of the best ever.  Everyone was happy.  We had no tantrums (good job, me). the only thing missing were a few members of our family.

Nativity cast 2012

It makes me feel better to post a picture of the missing kids

also missing 

I was a little nervous about Christmas morning because it was going to be Christmas presents lite, but everyone gave with their heart and the gifts were gladly received.  I had already gotten what I wished for on Christmas Eve (a program), but was twice blessed with a stocking full of love notes from my children.  And okay, I was thrilled with my little willow tree grandchildren replicas.

With Christmas over, our fun needed a little freshening up, and that's when Daniel came with his family.  Yay for babies!  We now had new personalities, new jokes, new talents and new people to play our games with us.  And when you have rangers leading the way for your nerf team it adds a little focus.  Not to mentioned a photo session that really met my needs if not the boys'.  But they were good sports and looked great.  Thanks Erica.

Then if things weren't exciting enough my sister Carrie and her family spent some time with us.  Her children taught us how magical our back forest is as they ran to play in "Tarabithia."  As luck would have it Paul and Joseph had just fixed the tree house.  It was great to see the bright colors running through the wintry woods.  Carrie gave us a fun dance clinic so we're ready to salsa at the club.  We didn't, but we could.

We (meaning my kids) put together about 4 puzzles, and the real we played volleyball, dodgeball, frisbee and ate lots and lots of food.  Paul saved the day more than once by going to the grocery store for important items, even though there was a regular trip for groceries daily.  And then it started to end.  Carrie left, Daniel left and Aaron left.  We celebrated New Year's to the best of our ability but at a greatly subdued level of partying.  Joseph and Eliza drove off in the wee hours of the morning.  Jacob and I played raquetball and he serenaded us on his last night home before the Stoker house was left with just ourselves.

Tomorrow all my kids will be in school and I'll be back to just my normal great life.  I'll try and eat less sugar and worry about ways I need to improve and wean myself from movie watching and exert all my will power to get my food pantry organized, and be thankful for a fantastic Christmas.

Decking the Halls joyfully...as opposed to obsessively.

I have a love-hate relationship with Christmas.  Obviously, I love the Savior so I love his birthday.  Obviously I love my friends and family so I love spending time with them.  Obviously I love music, decorating, shopping, and cookies, so what's my problem?  I have been trying to figure it out and here's what I came up with.  I don't like how I feel when I'm obsessing.  I don't like it when I get an emotional expectation and laser focus on it and start freaking if my reality doesn't match my dream.  I've always had a little trouble with expectations, but things started really whipping up when I became a mother, specifically a mother at Christmas time.  Mothers are the Christmas magic makers.  We're in charge of the feeling, the traditions, the memories, and the happy Christmas morning.  Couple that with the responsibility of teaching children the joy of giving by providing meaningful service opportunities, and it can lead to a pretty intense holiday season.  Clearly I need to lighten up and relax but, but, but.  I'm working on it.

Susie, Melinda and I opening presents.  I suppose my reality isn't matching my expectations,

I have some wonderful memories of magical Christmas moments, but I also have some not so wonderful memories of frenzied, overwhelmed Christmas moments.  Since I am now 53 I am starting my life's decrescendo, and I feel it is my duty to find balance and the perfect amount of enoughness in my Christmas celebration.

In our family we start the season with decking the halls.  When I was growing up my Nana sent each grandchild a Christmas ornament every year.  I also received one from my parents.  I got married in December so Nana threw me a Christmas ornament shower.  I started married life with a nice little Christmas ornament trousseau.  I wanted to carry the ornament per year tradition on in my family so each of my 9 children has received an ornament every year.  Do you know how many ornaments that is?  Well, the number is staggering and each little 5 cubic inch decoration is packed with memories and emotion.  Some more than others of course, but there's no telling which one will become the most treasured or what feeling will be triggered at its annual re acquaintance.

And lets talk about the traditions of the tree itself.  I grew up on the west coast where the Christmas trees are fragrant.  Every year my parents purchased a real tree, cut a few inches off the trunk and placed it in a stand filled with sugar water.  It was my job to water the tree.  Sometimes I missed a little, but that's okay.  It just absorbed into the tree skirt...or the carpet.  No matter to me and my child self.  The closer we got to Christmas, the more downward turning the bows became.  Little prickly pine needles sprinkled themselves across the Christmasy living room with their frequency increasing as Christmas Day approached.  And I can't forget to mention the excitement of turning the corner towards home with the pervasive thought, "I wonder if the tree has caught fire and is burning our house down.?"

On my first married Christmas I emotionally demanded that we purchase and decorate a Christmas tree.  My husband reasoned that we would be leaving our apartment and spending Christmas with our families so no tree purchase was necessary.  That was the cruelest, scroogiest logic I had ever heard so I prevailed on him until the acquisition was complete.  My tree tantrum continued through the years.  When we lived in Nebraska I ramped up the tradition and requested that we cut our tree from a tree farm.  Out into the bitter cold we went..  For those of you who have not experienced a Nebraska winter, think deep freezer with a fan on high.  I thought it was a great tradition, our little kids running from tree to tree, that shaker machine that attempted to solve the excess needle problem, the festive drive back to town with a tree tied to the top of our car.  My husband went along and was dutifully helpful, but never happy about the expense and effort required.  One of the last summers of Paul's PhD program found me at a garage sale with an artificial tree for 5 dollars.  It was a huge compromise in my Christmas tradition value system, but as a gift to my husband I spent the 5 dollars with a plan to skip the "real Christmas tree tantrum" until graduation. The season went splendidly.  No forking out 30-40 dollars from our December budget, no precarious sugar water filled tree stands, no needles, no fire. There was only a twinge of longing for traditions past.  Artificial tree it is.  I hate it when Paul's right.

Year 1

As I traveled through life  I found myself loving the magnificence of  homes transfigured into Christmas awesomeness.  These homes belonged to the most festive of women.  I decided that's what I wanted to be when I grew up so I began my Christmas craft journey.  I faithfully attended  the Saturday Christmas Craft day when the girls get together and eat and talk and knock out about 6 new Christmas decorations.  I  learned to tole paint and bought a saw and made stuff.  I gave decorations and received decorations, bought greenery and ribbon at Michael's for 50% off until my home was filled to the brim with red and green.  But lately I've noticed that it makes me feel a bit claustrophobic, not to mention that when I decorate, I obsess.  My brain gets into task mode and everyone knows, don't talk to mom right now, she's not normal.

So let it be noted that on this, my 53rd Christmas, I am working to approach all the aspects of hall-decking with joyfulness and peace and diminishing obsessiveness.  We didn't decorate on the Saturday after Thanksgiving as dictated by tradition.  We nonchalantly got around to it 6 days later.  Sure, I had my dream of merrily decorating the tree as a family while sipping eggnog all evening.  But when my son informed me that he had plans with his friends and I felt my picture being altered, I reminded myself that flexibility is essential to joy and asked for 30 minutes.  It was a very nice 30 minutes. Okay, I did freak out when someone who shall remain nameless tried to sneak away to read his book, but he saw the fire in my eyes and returned to the decorating party.  (I'm still developing.)

It seems like we just took last year's tree down about a week ago.  And I'm pretty sure I took down the 2010 Christmas tree the week before that.  So with a clear recollection of the inconvenience of this activity I told the kids to only put up their favorite ornaments.  When I said "favorite" my picture was "beautiful", but my reality was "favorite" so I thought, "flexibility."

Gabe's favorite.  He made it for himself.  It'sitting in prime tree realty at eye level in the front

I asked Rebecca, "Why doesn't my tree look like the  pretty tree in the lobby we visited Saturday."
"Because it didn't have first grade handmade ornaments."  Now that she mentioned it, I think
my tree's the prettiest in the world.


Next task...joyfully decorating.  I'm not gonna lie, I did get into my "not very fun to be with" task mode, but I wanted to attain a "keeping Christmas without excess" look, and that takes a lot of thinking.  I ditched much of the greenery as I wasn't quite ready to be taking that down again either, but chose my nativities and the decorations that still warm my heart, mostly because of the giver of these gifts.

This awesome nativity came home with Jacob from his mission in Peru.
It received a little damage on the trip, but Eliza carefully repaired it.
Now it reminds me of 2 people that I love.  

While I was struggling with what to put where, I did have a little worker by my side setting an example of a really nice balance between getting the job done and keeping the real spirit of Christmas.  My daughter volunteered to put up the stockings, (my favorite Christmas decorations).  She calmly calculated the distance between  the rungs on the stairs, ran into trouble, recalculated, found success.  She put each stocking in chronological order, chose a stocking for new additions through marriage or birth and tied them to the stair rail.  But sometimes she would play on the piano, or talk cheerfully to her family members or just make the home a happier place, basically enjoying the Christmas season.

And the next day when Gabe came home from school he said, "Don't you just love coming home to a Christmas tree?"  Actually I do, I just need to be reminded of joy sometimes.

Happy Thanksgiving

On this Monday before the 4th Thursday of November (Thanksgiving) I would like to record some of our family's time honored traditions.  We'll start with the feast.  The meat of choice is turkey.  That's what my mom served and that's what I serve.  According to the tradition, (mine, not my mom's) I move the turkey from the deep freeze to the refrigerator on Monday.  I assume there is enough time to thaw before Thursday.  By Wednesday it is still frozen solid and I try the quick thaw method of putting it in a sink of cold water. I place a wet wash cloth on the part that is still exposed because the sink isn't quite deep enough.  Thursday morning I go to stuff the turkey before baking it.  I realize that the giblets and neck are still frozen in the turkey cavity.  I try and pry them out with a fork, unsuccessfully.  I then start chipping frozen turkey parts and running hot water over the icy innards until they break loose from the cavity's stubborn hold.  I throw the neck and giblet bag into the garbage with a twinge of guilt.  My mom used to boil them for stock to make her stuffing.  I'll remember that option, but then I twist off the lid of the boullon granules.  When I can find the disposable aluminum roaster I place the turkey and cover it with aluminum foil.  I bake for the recommended time and wonder why the thermometer didn't pop.  Everything is ready except the red middle of the butterball timer.  We assume it's broken and pull the turkey out.  Paul carves the turkey and continually asks, "Is this turkey done, does it look pink to you?"  We serve the outside white pieces and put the questionable turkey slices back into the oven where they bake to a state of unappetizing dryness. " How can this be a tradition?" you ask.  Wouldn't you just learn from last year's problems?  One would think, wouldn't one?  There have been a couple of changes to be sure.  One year I started using turkey baking bags.  That reduced the turkey baking time.  For the past couple of years I have taken the turkey out of the freezer on Sunday instead of Monday.  A couple of years in Alabama were awesome because our friends let us fry our turkey in their deep fryer...best turkey ever.  But most years the tradition is observed.  This year I am conscientiously trying to avoid the tradition. My turkey is thawing as we speak, and I think I'll put Daniel in charge of turkey.  He won't let the turkey fail.  It's the only Thanksgiving food he eats, the little carb hater.

I spend many minutes unloading the punch bowl cupboard so I can pull the punch bowl out of it's candle, Easter egg decorating kit, glass cups, and glue gun laden state.  It is then filled with cranberry juice and sprite.   Of course we serve green bean casserole with french fried onions because we're American.  We change up the jello salad, but pomegranate apple salad screams "Thanksgiving dinner."  I make gravy with boullon and corn starch. We of course have mashed potatoes and we serve them in the elegant mixer bowl (I take the beaters out.) My mom has a delicous stuffing she makes with french bread torn into pieces a couple of nights before and left drying on the counter.  I have not been successful with this recipe.  Mine was just soggy so until I check the ingredients, I  buy Pepperidge Farms stuffing mix, add onion, celery and bouillon and call it good. Probably the most solid feature of our feast is Paul's rolls.  Always delicious.  This year I'm going to try and make Paul's mom's lemon jello salad with cheese, pineapple and marshmallows.  I love food legacies.

The pies that have become standard fare are french apple, Marie Callendar's razzleberry, and Lynn Ames' cheesecake. I always like to try a new side dish and new pie recipe.  This is especially fun if I have a guest that likes adventuring with food.  There's a little pie baking tradition too.  The pie filling always bubbles onto the heating element in the oven.  My husband bah humbugs this tradition and places my pies on a cookie sheet.  I'll never forget the look of wonder on my brother-in-law's face when my sister and I were baking pies.  Pie filling was sizzling away  and smoke was pouring from the oven.  We just looked at him and said nonchalantly, "Oh don't worry, it will burn off and stop smoking eventually."  Sorry Paul J.

We observe the feast, but I love the people.  It is important to me to be surrounded by loved ones.  For much of my married life I lived within a short day's travel to my sister Susie's home.  Many of our Thanksgivings were spent together.  I still feel bad about the year we took our family to her house and brought with us a horrible virus.  My oldest son was coughing a bit and seemed  tired, but I couldn't stand the thought of not being with my sister for Thanksgiving.  I rationalized that he would be better by the time we got there.  Well, he was worse and many of her family contracted his symptoms.  Sorry Susie.  But the other Thanksgivings were great.  The kids were loud and we were crowded, but there's something about being with a sister.  She taught me a craft, usually an ornament, and we went shopping with only the youngest babies in tow, if we took any kids at all.  Thanks husbands.

Amy, Nathan, Daniel and Brandon

Aaron and Amanda 1989

We've tried a couple different thankful activities.  One year we wrote what we were thankful for on the tablecloth.  Another year we wrote great qualities on placecards.  I've heard of making a list of one hundred things people are thankful for.  I'd like some suggestions if anyone has any.  We can always be more thankful around here.  "Can't be hateful.  Gotta be grateful."

After the dinner we make graham cracker gingerbread houses.  The kids fill them with as much candy as possible and then we play the "let's see how many pieces this breaks into on the way home" game.  Our Thanksgiving night movie is "Miracle on 34th street" with Mara Wilson, just in case there is anyone in the house who does not believe in Santa Clause.

Gingerbread houses with Carrie and kids

Susie and I don't get together for Thanksgiving anymore.  We both have adult children and grandkids now.    I also live in the south.  I live close to a different sister, yay for sisters. Sometimes we get lucky and have nephews for dinner. We had a couple of years of Thanksgiving with Brandon and Mallory.  I loved those holidays.  I wish I had known they would be moving to the west coast, I would have loved them even more.  Thankfully, Daniel and Erica and Nathan and Ariane live in the Thanksgiving road trip zone.  Caleb called me this morning to tell me he couldn't sleep very well last night because he's excited to see me.  Me too!  Nathan called on Sunday to say that he and Ariane are in.  It's going to be a great feast.   As long as I have someone I love at my table, it's Thanksgiving to me.

2010 in DC

2011

New pencils and gleaming white socks.

My first day of kindergarten a long time ago.

Well, Monday was my, lets see..., approximately 41st first day of school.  That, of course, depends on whether we count only fall semester or winter semester also in college.  And you must know that I'm counting years as the mother of students.  And can I say that the first day of school as a mother is possibly more terrifying than it was as a student.

After realizing how experienced I am in first-day of-schoolses  I decided to make a few lists:  Things that make me smile, things that make me cry, things that make me smile again.

Things that make me smile:  New pencils, spiffy looking schools and classrooms,  children in spankin' new clothes, socks so white they're gleaming, seeing the people you haven't seen all summer that you promised you'd hang out with but didn't, having a class with someone you wanted to get to know better, plaid skirts, football season, universal confusion that makes my confusion okay and even expected.

Things that make me cry:  Going to Walmart for the 7th time because no matter how hard we try we can't get the supply list right;  First-day-of-school-eve insomnia-  I know even the teachers don't sleep well, but doesn't that make for a rather volatile situation?  Music fees, locker fees, parking fees, testing fees-  it's my responsibility to pay for these privileges, but somehow I don't anticipate the magnitude of my output in my August budget :(  Filling out the "parent homework" and signing up for the campus-infinity-charms-this will be just the ticket if you can remember your password so you can find your way back to this site because if you don't you're a bad parent and your child will fail this class-websites; The fear in my children's eyes.

Things that make me smile again:  We have had more than a few years when all my children have been in a new situation.  They have survived and been strengthened by these times, but I sure love all the people who made their path easier.  This year I have one senior who's never had it so good.  It's his third year in the same school.  He doesn't have one class where he knows no one.  He's taking guitar.  He parks in the senior parking lot.  I just hope he has teachers who make him accountable.  I wouldn't mind if his swagger looked a little more like a purposeful, arduous climb towards greater heights.

My little second-to-lasty started 9th grade.  Not only is she new in high school, but her middle school population fed into 4 different high schools.  There is lots of potential for meeting new people, but as a mother I really wanted her to have a friend here and there, you know, someone to eat lunch with.  By the way, isn't that one of a mother's greatest fears?  I probably should get over that.  There are a lot worse things than eating lunch alone, like sitting at a table with a lot of friendly drug dealers or being in the hospital and not starting school at all...perspective, people. Anyway, I'm very thankful to her big brother's friends for saying, "Hey little freshman girl, would you like to sit here?"  I'm also thankful for my daughter who told me  cheerfully without any fear or concern,  "I just looked around.  There are lots of people to sit by."  Thank you dear, for being way more grounded than I was when I was 14.

My baby started middle school.  He went to "Meet the teacher" with his siblings because his mother  (yours truly) was out of town. Honestly, they did an awesome job.  His sister introduced him around to all the important people (teachers, principal, bus driver, office lady.)  His big brother told him if any one gave him any trouble not to worry, he'd beat them up.  (Then we wouldn't have any trouble at all :)  Of course he couldn't get his locker open, but as luck would have it , it really was broken and he didn't have a locker for 3 days.  This actually worked out great.  He didn't have the stress of getting to class on time if he couldn't work the locker and he had all his stuff with him in his back pack.  Then best of all, the vice principal gave him a free ticket for "Bronco ice" for his inconvenience. That's a treat that I would not have provided, so his life rocked.  And his home room teacher smiles, a lot.  And that makes all the difference.

Brandon, Daniel, Nathan, kindergarten Aaron

Daniel's first day of kindergarten

Jacob

Andrew and his amazing pencil, Rebecca (cute kindergartener) Eliza, Jacob, pre-school Gabe

Kindergarten Gabe, Rebecca

I think we're going to make it, and by we I mean me.  There's never any question that the kids will make it.  They always do.

Today I helped a worm.

I have a little story to tell.  I was taking my sometimes-daily walk around the neighborhood.  It was a typical July morning, 90 degrees and 50% humidity.  I was enjoying the crepe myrtle and watching the sidewalk in front of me to avoid uneven steps and protruding bushes when I happened by a worm.  This isn't the first worm I've encountered while walking, but I noticed this worm struggling courageously to cross the baking pavement to return to it's earthly purpose of aerating the soil.  It caused my heart to hurt a little as I walked past.  In a moment of compassion the thought occurred to me, "I should give that worm a boost."  The usual talking-myself-out-of-a good-idea ensued until I realized leaving the worm to suffer would bring me a little pain.  Giving aid to the worm would bring me a little joy.  I wondered if there were any observers peering out their window as I turned in my tracks, grabbed a pine needle and flicked the worm across the deadly concrete to the green covered earth.  I was back on my way in 45 seconds.  As I finished my familiar route I reflected on any life parallels that might apply to the experience.  The compassion I felt for the worm was small but real and would have manifest itself for any sincere being in need.  I wondered if that was a small window to the character of the love of God.  Because He is love we can trust that he will  help us as we struggle to live and do good.  No matter how unattractive or undeserving we feel He cannot cease to be God and cannot cease to love us and feel compassion for us.  

I'll be your buddy

This past week I spent a couple of days at 11 yr. old scout camp.  Twenty-three boys and 10 leaders--not bad odds.  There were a couple of  "You know you're in the south" moments.  The first being the rocking chairs.  We had 2 on the porch of our cabin and 25 in the pavilion.  It just gave us that down-home feeling.The next was when I heard some digging in the pine needles in the middle of the night.  I was half asleep trying to process what critter it could be.  When it came around to my end of our open cabin I shined my flashlight on it.  There was the  silhouette of...ugh...an armadillo.
Later, I smiled when my born-and-raised Georgia friend said,  "I said to those boys come pick up the trash.  Your mama don't work here."  The next day after breakfast she looked at the left-over breakfast foods and said, "We'd better hold stingy to those apples.  We can feed them later to the boys."  I'm definitely going to start saying "Your mama don't work here" and "Hold stingy."

If anyone has spent time in scouting you know they're big into "The buddy system."  This is an important safety procedure, but it's always a little painful when they say, "Choose a buddy and hold up their hand."  Some boys quickly grab their best buddy's hand.  All are in agreement.  Then there are the boys that are the third in a group of friends or don't know anyone very well or just don't have a buddy.  That's when my heart starts to break.  The mom in me says, "Do we have to have a buddy system?"  The scouters look at me incredulously, "Safety first Ma'am."  After about 15 awkward moments we were all set.  We did have one group of 3, but that's just math.

Next we went to the swimming test.  If you're a swimmer you get to swim anywhere.  The best of anywhere includes the iceberg. It's the coveted floating device with a climbing wall on one side and a slide on the other.  Beginners can swim out to the red buoys and non-swimmers have to stay this side of the blue buoys next to the lifeguard.  We had 4 boys who didn't take the test, 2 non swimmers, 4 beginners and the rest swimmers. There were some disappointed boys, but none so sad as a little boy with special needs.  It took him a while to get over being classified as a non-swimmer.  When we returned that afternoon for our swimming fun we tried to rearrange some buddies so the swimmers didn't need to swim down a level.  This little boy was crying loudly because he didn't have a buddy.  I was getting the other boys situated and planning to take care of him in a minute.  I looked over as a super-de-duper 11 yr. old scout came up to him and said, "I'll be your buddy."  Bless your heart little man.

In church I serve in the Primary Organization.  Our outline says, "Each child is precious to God.  They should be welcomed, loved, nurtured and included. "  In other words, we all need a buddy.  This scout was looking to see who needed him and was willing to take on a buddy that had more challenges than others.  I know how thankful I feel to the people who are buddies to my children.  I think that's how God felt when he saw this scout.

  Our last camp activity was canoeing in the Flint River.  Each canoe had 1 adult and 2 scouts.  My scouts were trying to decide if they should jump into the water.  We discussed the difficulty of getting them back into the canoe.  They decided they would wait til we were closer to take-out.  We were nearing our finish when one boy said, "You wanna go in?"  "I don't know do you?" asked the other.  They hemmed and hawed until another canoe approached.  One of those boys called out "Let's jump."  The time had come,and both of my boys shouted, "We're going in!"  They jumped, the canoe overturned, and we were all swimming.  I got to our canoe and turned it aright, but it was filled with water and barely floating.  It looked like I would be towing the canoe to shore with my mighty sidestroke.  It was a dismal prospect, but the gentleman in the other canoe saw that I was in trouble, tied my canoe to his and rowed them both ashore.  Thanks buddy.

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