Levi's picture

 Little red caboose!

 The Cole family by a large coal pile.

 The oldest train in Colorado.  Pretty Cool.

Today Lincoln turns 18 months! Joule is due in three months! So many wonderful little boys in our lives.

We prayed and prayed and prayed all week to share the gospel with someone around us and invite them to join us with the missionaries. We knocked on our neighbors’ doors. No answer. I walked through stores, halls, parks, everywhere with an increased awareness that I am surrounded by God’s children and most of the time I ignore them. We stopped and talked to people in the parking lot. We took cookies to people. To no avail. Thursday I saw a woman who recently recommitted to coming to the gym. I haven’t seen her for a few days and asked if she’d come Friday. Friday morning at six we both huffed and puffed and talked about life. Hers is significantly different than mine and yet as she spoke I glimpsed a little of what Heavenly Father feels for her. It was kind of like He looked right at me and said, “Hey! This is my little girl. You be good to her.” I invited her to join us for dessert. She gave me her phone number, but eventually declined. Still. We prayed to invite someone, and we were given the opportunity. Our heightened focus on sharing the gospel has allowed me to realize and re-evaluate what we do in our home. Are we really sharing the gospel daily with our little boys? How? Do they feel the Spirit? Do we share our testimonies in word and action? Do people know we’re followers of Christ? Is that evident in our countenance? Do we love others enough to extend invitations? And that has been a big shifting point for us: more than “an experience,” we’ve prayed for love and the desire to love. What a difference this has made.

So the missionaries came to dinner without a guest, but we’re still on track. Missionaries are so cute (not the word I would have used a few years ago when I taught a class of RMs; we’ve all grown up a little). They are a testimony that the Lord works through the weak and simple regardless of our experience or perspective.

Aurora is about 20 miles away from us. It seems that the whole area continues in prayer. If not about fires or tornadoes or rain, we plead for peace and safety and comfort. The whole circumstance—the shooting mirroring so much of the violence in the Batman movies—creeps me out. It makes me wonder what I passively accept and how we need to improve. On a small scale, the boys and I took some friends to a kids’ magic-comedy show at the library the day of the shooting. The performer hit her head with a balloon and some of her plastic juggling pins for some laughs. Now, I know I have a limited sense of humor etc. etc., but I couldn’t help thinking, “But it’s not okay to hurt our bodies. It’s not okay or funny to hurt others. We laugh, but this is not how we want to act or who we want to be.” I realize I’m overanalyzing; or am I? I really want our kids to have a sense of compassion, responsibility, and the ability to step back and consider what the implications are. I’ll stop now. Stepping off the soap box.

Yesterday we ventured off to the train museum. Whoohoo! We climbed in old engines and cabooses and dining cars. We looked into passenger cars. We rang clangy bells. We walked around a round house that they actually use to repair trains. We rode an open air train around the acreage and heard a brief history. Some of the trains were built in the 1800s. Some still run. The boys (including Wes) most enjoyed the model trains. Outside they had a garden with robotic trains, towns, and bridges. Thomas the Tank Engine circled to Levi’s delight. Inside the museum building, most of the basement was dedicated to intricately painted trains and people and terrain. Levi’s evening comment: “How ‘bout we go back Monday?”

We’re keeping another sleep log for Levi. Although these are good and helpful, sometimes I prefer to not see what is really going on. This week was okay aside from each day he woke up earlier (today was 5 a.m. plus church and no nap. Plus he didn’t get to sleep until after ten and he night terrored and flung around in his sleep all night—but that was a less good night). I called and talked to our pediatrician’s office in Texas. Turns out our pediatrician has a connection to an Austin research center specializing in pediatric sleep studies. It sounds as if Levi will qualify but we have to wait until his well visit when we return. The possibility of improving his sleep comforts all of us, though. If there’s a solution, we’ll look for it and do our best to figure it out!

While Wesley works away and I try to cook and rewrite my class, the boys develop into crazy little darlings. Levi directed me very specifically to draw our family as missionaries. Baby Joule has reddish hair and green eyes. We talked about repentance and that we can change to be better, like learning to not spit. He’s trying so hard. And he helps Lincoln learn to not hit (although Lincoln loves to do it and cackles). Levi’s patience when Lincoln hits or when we struggle to wake up amazes us. He’s picked up a bunch of funny phrases that include, “How ‘bout..” and “At that point” (as in we told him the missionaries were coming for dinner and he responded “Dad will be home from work at that point…”). Levi’s questions are more sophisticated now. I love that he asks what certain things are and how they work. This week he asked if I’d ever be a boy. “Gender is an essential characteristic of premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose”—phew! He also wants to know what day of the week it is and what time it is—primarily because he’s sooo excited to see Dad who comes home around dinner and stays home on Saturday and Sunday. Aren’t we spoiled here? Lincoln now asserts his desires with more gusto. He likes to eat from a fully loaded spoon so that the bite is “BIG BIG!” and if he doesn’t want a certain food, or toy, or whatever he absolutely refuses to even acknowledge it—except to throw it. When he finds scratch paper or lint on the floor, he quickly takes it to the garbage can and proudly waits for praise. A family in the ward invited us to dinner; Lincoln learned to jump off their couch. Yet he lives on. He loved the magic show and sat transfixed until the dove and the rabbit appeared—out of fire, no less. Then Lincoln stood straight up and said, “TOUCH! TOUCH!” To his delight, he petted the soft white rabbit at the end of the show, but continued reaching for it as we left. Rabbits, hamsters, mice, and rats will not be members of our future household: remind me of this if I ever start to waver. We’ve read a zillion stories about waiting for the new baby. This morning, when I pointed to the picture of the pregnant mommy with a baby in her tummy, Lincoln (on my right leg) turned to Levi (on my left leg), rubbed Levi’s tummy and said, “Baby, baby” very gently. Levi redirected his hand to Joule (in the middle of my lap). Then we all laughed as Joule rolled over.

Some additions from Wes:  Another of Levi’s new phrases is “it kind of stinks in here.”  He especially likes to say that when he wants to turn on the bathroom fan.  And today when we were on a walk, Lincoln was helping me push the stroller.  He would grab the stroller with both hands, put his head down, and run as fast as his little legs could go yelling “Fast! Fast!”  Both boys loved it.