Thanksgiving Jaunt to Atlanta

Picture the scene . . . it was Thanksgiving night, Chris and I were chatting in the den, fatigued from the day, when Chris proposed that he would really like all eight of us to load up in the van the next morning and drive to Atlanta to see his family.

Anyone who knows me at all or has read this blog once or twice knows that I am the opposite of spontaneous, so this was a big deal for little me . . .

We did it! (And I made it through the exertion of the weekend without coming down with mastitis again!)

Chris' brother M. and parents had arrived home one day prior from Texas--where his M. had been in the hospital for almost seven weeks! They had traveled there as a family and M. had fallen ill there--seriously ill from a virus and had to put under sedation for four weeks, was on a breathing machine, and we truly thought he would not make it. But he awoke! His lungs healed! He went through physical therapy to gain strength to walk again, and here he was, home the day before.

We decided to go visit!

Playing cards while Mom and Dad tuck in the three littlest boys

I wish I had photos of our Friday night celebratory dinner in a private dining room of a great Mexican restaurant. It was a fun and love-filled event!

Margaret (6) read "The Boxcar Children" start-to-finish over the weekend.

In regard to Saturday morning's breakfast buffet, may I just say--dusting off my soap box--that I continue to be shocked and appalled by all the people--children, svelte teenage girls, and adults alike--wearing pajamas, and in slippers or bare feet, in hotel lobbies for breakfast? No other restaurant would allow this, no matter how casual, and I see this in expensive hotels. I think wearing pajamas in public--including "Pajama Day" at public school--is just one more form of intentional wearing away of modesty of dress.

Alright, offense duly given to somebody, I'm sure, I put away my soap box again.

Breakfast in the lobby

Food art: making a bird

Some of the crew stayed back at the grandparents' home, but our family and Pop-Pops went to the Georgia Aquarium for the day--a generous gift from them to us! We hadn't been in years, since our oldest was probably three or four years old.

Waiting at the aquarium

Such a happy boy

I note that the kids all began looking up instead of smiling at the camera.

Albino alligator

"Watch fish!"

"Watch fish!"

A manta ray swooping by

Ever-goofy John

A tender photographic series of Mary helping her beloved Thomas look at marine life . . .

Mama walked across this rope bridge too!

We finished our aquarium visit by attending the Dolphin Show, which was really fantastic. Honestly, my greatest joy was peeking to watch my almost-11-year-old's face in unsullied innocent, beaming joy at seeing the dolphins do their fantastic tricks. He is now declaring that he may want to be a marine biologist when he grows up--and I just love to see a child's imagination captured that way.

Lastly, I will share a gift from God I received right there in the aquarium. We had stopped for an exorbitant lunch at the aquarium, prices reflecting our being held hostage there with no outside food. (Little tip: buy your ticket time for first thing in the morning, and leave before lunch, or arrive right after lunch, unless you like buying a small hamburger for $18).

Navigating the aquarium, crowds packed shoulder-to-shoulder, unable to use our stroller (the aquarium really means it when it says that strollers are not recommended) was causing tension and tempers to flare.

While eating lunch, a cafeteria worker in her fifties approached me and asked if these were all my children. She spoke Spanish with broken English, but spoke true wisdom to me that day.

She told me countless times, "God has blessed you. Look at your beautiful children."

Over and over again. Look at your children.

Then she volunteered to me--I was too self-focused to have replied by asking about her children--that she had had five miscarriages, followed by her only live birth, which resulted in that child dying at two months old. She had no surviving children.

I burst into tears at her poignant story and my own general ingratitude.

She resumed her litany of how blessed I am.

Then she said of her life, in a way showing calm resignation and great faith, "Only God knows, only God knows."

We know not His ways, and His ways are not our ways. When God doesn't give us any children, we can't know. When he gives us more children than we think we can handle, we can't know. But we can find sanctification through all of these paths, if we will give ourselves over to Him.

I have been meditating on this angel-messenger in the form of a cafeteria worker for days now. Maybe her message was meant just for me in that moment, but maybe it will help another mom as well.

Look at your blessings!