Every three or five or six months or so...

...I open up a post on this site and think to myself:  write something!

There are so many things worth remembering that I've forgotten for lack of writing them down.

The reality is that I can nevermore stay awake to finish any posting.

Tonight when I opened an entry, spurred on by our ward conference theme about acknowledging and recording the hand of God in our lives, I found an unfinished entry from 2016, about Spencer learning to ride his bike.  I remember typing it out but not having the patience to add pictures, and thus neglecting it these past three 😳 (ha! when did emojis come to blogs?) years.

Finishing off that entry seems a doable baby-step toward strengthening my journaling muscles...

Summer 2016:

I'm sitting in the room and on the bed I used to sleep in as a teenager.  It's the room Spencer and Lucy and I sleep in when we visit Dad.  There are bunk beds for the kids next to my old bed, and it's cozy to be all together on these nights.  

Spencer is asleep in the bottom bunk.  He's clutching his stuffed Hobbes and there's a ziplock baggie under his pillow with four quarters and a note from the tooth fairy.  Those quarters are a big deal, seeing as fairies (at our house) are somewhat less than reliable.  Flakey even.

Lucy is asleep on the top bunk.  There's a partially crocheted handbag at her feet, and a plethora of stuffed animals around her head.  

How I love them both.   

I love how Lucy wakes up early to go walking with me.  We watch for deer and discuss extra-curricular activities for the fall.  I love that for the past four days she's been using a magnifying glass to burn inscriptions onto every spare wooden surface - from two-by-fours to popsicle sticks.

She's been learning to play the flute this summer, she had a fun first time at tennis camp, and I can't believe she's going to be in sixth grade.

I love her smiles and her passion for the game "signs" that we've played at several recent family gatherings.  Today in the pool, she and I volleyed 56 counts with the beach ball.  Our previous record was a mere 25, so that was a celebratory moment.  

An even bigger moment of celebration this summer was Spencer learning to ride his bicycle.

Bless him.  

It was clear last fall that he wanted to take his training wheels off, but after several ensuing crashes, his enthusiasm plummeted.  I wasn't sure it would ever resurface.  But a few weeks ago he set a goal during Family Night to work on his bike a little bit every day (thank you story of Heber J. Grant learning to play baseball!), and what do you know?!?  A little practice every day for three days was all it took.  

I laughed through my motherly tears as I heard his delighted, cautious laughter bounce over the concrete.
"Mom!" he called, "I'm doing it!!"  

"Mom!" he asked, "can I call Grandpa??!!"

"Mom!" he demanded, "tell Lucy to come watch me!!!"

What had been months of protesting became repeated cries of "This is so fun!"

"You know what's great about a bike??" he hollered to me across the courtyard.  "It's doesn't have a battery!  So it never dies!!"

"Right!"  I called back.  "YOU"RE the battery!"

He rode, of course, for hours that day.  Lucy and I were so proud.  

Remember this little victory, Spencer!  Remember that small, consistent effort can help you surmount great challenges.  Remember that you have the power to propel yourself forward - the power "to act and not be acted upon."

Sure love you, little two-wheeler!