Conversations at Starbucks with a 4-year-old

H: Abby, who is your favorite person?

A: Is this a trick question?

H: Who is your favorite person?

A: Um... Jesus.

H: No, it can't be someone who lives in the sky!

A: (Hmm... good point?) I don't have favorites. I love everyone the same.

H: No, who is the favorite kid you babysit?

A: I like, S, SB and H the best.

H: If you don't say just me, I won't let you play with my toys.

A: That hardly seems fair.

H: (Takes another bite of doughnut) Well... since you got me a doughnut, I guess I'll let you play with them. 

I really do love them all the same. But H has such a knack for saying things that make me giggle. 

Real Life?

I'm sitting here listening to coyotes howl outside my window and wondering if this is real life. There are CAH-YO-TEES howling outside my window! I'm avoiding sleep and other such silly notions, and once again, I am blown away by the realization that this is not where I expected to be (SC) or what I expected to be doing (What AM I doing?). Welcome to the life of an obsessive planner.

The other day I wondered how 12-year-old Abby would respond if she saw me. Having just finished reading Mother Theresa's biography - I think she would be very disappointed to discover I was not caring for sick people in the slums of India. Actually I think she'd be surprised I was still alive - considering I was convinced I would be a martyr for my faith by age 19. Reading Jesus Freaks at a young age will do that for you.

But alas dear innocent 12-year-old self, I am instead listening to coyotes howl outside my window and wondering what 35-year-old Abby will be doing. If history is to be any sort of guide, I will obviously NOT be doing anything I expect to be. But as it turns out - I don't think that's such a bad thing.

Good Lord. May I be ever content in my circumstances but ever longing for your eternal glory.