There was...

...a little girl,

Who had a little curl,

Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good,

She was very good indeed,

But when she was bad she was...

No, never horrid.

But you gotta love when you're in the middle of a happy Sunday afternoon conversation with your husband and you breeze into the living room only to stop dead at the sight of your two year old, sitting on the floor, still clutching the blue ball point pen that was just used to draw intricate grid work all over her bare legs.

It was obvious that Lucy's art had not been meant for my eyes; I have never before seen such a classic "caught in the act" expression on my daughter's face. Wish I had a picture of that!

And I actually didn't think about taking a picture at all (surprising! I know!) until after about five scrubbings had been performed. The charming ink-veins are hardly visible below - but try to use your imagination...

And I readily admit: it was very far from horrid. I gratefully recognize that skin is miraculously easier to cleanse than pink Sunday dresses or white painted walls. Thanks, Lucy, for not taking it to the extreme...this time.

When evening rolled around, we had all recovered from the ball point pen fiasco. We strolled down the side walk to pay a brief visit to our (just-barely-returned-from-the-hospital-with-a-new-baby-girl) neighbors. CJ and Eric Carter also have an older daughter, Viana, right about Lucy's age. Lucy and Viana are good friends and for the last two days we've been excitedly telling Lucy that Viana has a new baby sister. When Lucy finally had a chance to see said baby, this evening, she seemed pretty unimpressed. Expressionless. Whatever. An hour after we were home, Wes and I were again talking and didn't notice Lucy leave the room or return to it. But she had done both. And now she approached us, holding and cradling her doll. When we noticed her standing quietly and solemnly before us, we stopped talking. She looked up at us and said with the sweetest smile: "Baby Sister."

Several possible reasons why tears instantly sprang to the back of my eyes in that moment: Lucy's tone was indescribably sweet. Her words were so quiet. So happy. They were a beautiful testament that our daughter is growing and learning. About families. About love. Lucy's words were also a slightly biting reminder of a little (big), longed-for dream that, until now, Wes and I have discussed alone and have not mentioned to our daughter. But tonight we all talked - for just a moment - about the hope of having a "baby sister" (or brother) in our house someday.

And the emotions of that brief scene stayed with me all evening. They flared a little as Lucy asked me to tell the "Abra-ham. And Ice-ick" story before bed tonight. What a beautiful story. What a timely reminder of a loving Heavenly Father. A Heavenly Father who asks his children (all of us) to do hard things - but who also showers down unasked for blessings.

We continue to bring our dreams to the feet of that loving Father - the same way you bring yours: trusting. Trying to trust. Wanting to trust. Knowing that trusting does not mean getting everything you want when you want it. Or ever. But knowing that it means getting things you didn't know you wanted. Didn't know you needed. Knowing that it means peace and hope and...relief.