Mosely Ella Claiborne
A cup brimful of sweetness cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, no matter how suddenly jarred. - Amy Carmichael
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Soccer – Let the Games Begin!
The season has started. In all its glory. (Okay, there really is not much glory – but the kids sure look cute in their uniforms, Riley is a great assistant coach and Piper is a pretty effective cheerleader.) We’re just at the beginning of the season but it’s funny already. There’s the I-expected-this-but-not-from-you – Hawkeye. He pretty much just wants to drink the water from his cool new officially-sanctioned-by-his-soccer-team water bottle. “Berg, don’t you want to play?” I ask. He answers, “Mommy, I think you should write my whole name, B-E-R-G-E-N, on my water bottle instead of just the B you already wrote.” While everyone is running after the ball…
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At First Glance
What you are looking at here is no ordinary ball. It’s a rubber band ball. But that’s not all. It is also the culmination of a dream. The hope of many months and much pondering and a quite intense pursuit. For Mosely, anyway. That kid thinks she created the concept of a ball made entirely of rubber bands. And she has been attempting to collect enough random loose rubber bands for a very long time now. But she was having a rather difficult time accumulating enough to make a difference. But no longer. Placed in front of her one day by Daddy, Mosely was given the holy grail in rubber…
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How We Roll
Recently Mosely asked if she could dress Piper Finn for our day’s outing. I said yes. Not only because I like to encourage sisterly love and older sibling helping, but because it was a busy morning. Kevin was out of town. Breakfast had not been served. (Or, more accurately, breakfast had not been passed out in cellophane wrapped squares. Hey, I think they were organic pop tarts, does that make it better? Who cares – right?) I still had to dress Wilder. London couldn’t find her other Chuck Taylor and Bergen was not satisfied with the choice of button up shirts I had placed on the table for him to…
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She’s So Lucky
This happened this afternoon. I don’t have to make this stuff up. (I just have to remember to write it down.) The day was beautiful. Dry. Sunny. Moderate temperature. London, Mosely and Berg were playing outside. I heard crying at the door and went to investigate. The Crying One was London. When I asked her why she was crying, this is what she said . . . “It’s just that Mosely already caught one moth and now she found a worm. And she’s just sooo lucky today and she won’t share any of them!”
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Mosely likes that
We were standing at the checkout counter when Mosely saw it. A sock monkey backpack. She tugged at my sleeve. “Mom – isn’t that so cute?” I agreed that it was. Piper pointed at the backpack with admiration as well. The sock monkey backpack. But it was on someone else’s back. And I tried to help the kids to admire the stranger’s accessory in a less obvious manner. But they are kids, after all. The lady wearing the sock monkey backpack turned around. “Can I give your daughter this backpack?” she asked. I hesitated, surprised. I said no, that wasn’t necessary. But she insisted and eventually I accepted. And now…
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Saints and Sinners
On a ride in the Suburban recently, the kids and I had a pretty heavy theological discussion. “How do we know who goes to heaven and who goes to hell?” one of my deep thinkers asked. “Well,” I started. Like I usually do. A stalling method I think I have perfected but which I know will have a short shelf life. And Bergen jumps in – “I know that. Good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell.” “Well,” I paused again. “That is not exactly true son. Are you a good person?” He nodded his head yes. “Do you ever do bad things?” I probed. Bergen said,…
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Sounds Logical
I am simply going to record a real conversation that took place earlier today in the confines of our Suburban. London: Who will I marry, Mommy? Me: Oh. I don’t know. I guess you will have to wait and see who God has planned for you. L-: How will I know who that is? Me: Well. In a lot of ways I guess. The young man will be pursuing God. Your daddy and I will like him. Uh . . . L-: So why can’t I just marry Bergen? We’re all Christians. Me: Brothers and sisters just do not get married to one another. Mosely: I plan to marry Otto.…
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The Drive Home
Do you know what is the best sound to hear as you drive through a torrential downpour? Mosely, singing “somewhere out there”. No. Not a song. Just those words. “Somewhere out there.”
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Mosely is Six
Birthdays. I love them. Mosely celebrated Six while we were on our vacation. In honor of that number and that stinkin’ adorable little girl – here are Six things I love about Mosely. One. She loves her little sister. When Mosely wakes up in the mornings she eases up to my side of the bed and asks quietly, “May I wake up little Pipes?” And once I agree Mosely makes every effort to take care of her little sister. She tries to change her diaper and dress her in clothes that are Mosely-approved. (Which usually means a dress, of course.) She even gets her a cup of water and entertains…
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Here We Go
Alert: This post is being typed from a computer with a dying battery. In a hotel room with no access to photographs. The Band of Keigley are on the road. (And you would know all the minutia of our family’s Christmas journey south if you followed Riley’s Facebook updates. But please do not. We do not wish to support her addiction. I’m actually not joking.) The start was a bit shaky . . . an hour and a half later than intended, snow and ice the first forty-five minutes, an accidental opening of the completely, tightly packed Suburban’s back door two minutes before the official Buckling In Of Passengers was…
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A Story of Hope
At lunch yesterday Mosely made a very unusual comment that seemed to be right out of left field. “I wish I could meet my first parents one day,” she said. My head actually whipped toward her – it was such an unexpected comment. We have made the choice to speak normally and often about Mosely’s adoption and her introduction to our family when she was but a wee little three-month-old sausage baby. (Hey – “sausage baby” is the term Mosely uses. And listen, if you had the privilege of meeting her at that age, you would agree. Her appendages closely resembled sausage links. It’s just true.) So it was no…
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Now What?
So, if love is a verb, how do you wrap that and stick it in your stocking? As the majority of our children are just beginning to enter the age of desiring to give Christmas gifts as well as get, we have been presented with a new dilemma. Last year we took all of the younger set to the infamous Dollar Tree and let each one pick out gifts for their siblings. It was fun. The kids loved picking out toys that each one would enjoy. But we ended up with 16 toys that were probably broken and disposed of before the new year, if not that very Christmas afternoon.…
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She Will Surprise You
Oh. This One. Sometimes she is such a mystery. Last week at the entrance to my least favorite store a lady representing the Salvation Army was ringing her little holiday bell. I gave all of the kids whatever change I had and they all trotted off to dump their coins in the red kettle. Much later, inside the store, I heard loose change hit the floor near my feet. And there was Mosely, scrambling after it. I knew right away where that little kid had gotten her quarter. Instead of dropping her money into the kettle, Mosely had dropped her quarter into her pocket. (Yes, I made her go back…
