Yesterday during the worship service at church the song "Victory in Jesus" came up on the screen as the next song to sing.  This song always reminds me of my grandad.  We sang it at his funeral.  Often when we sing this song in church I get a little teary.  The funny thing is, it isn't because it reminds me of my grandad's funeral.  The tears come because I can remember it being one of the songs that, when he was alive and well, his voice could be heard above the entire congregation.  And believe you me his voice stood out above the congregation.  The choir director probably spent time praying that Pryor Davis never decided to join the choir.  As a  kid I wondered why he had to sing so loud.  Wasn't he aware people could hear him? I could on the other side of the church!  I mean we shared the same last name and people knew it.  

Now that I'm older and a bit wiser I know why he sang as loud as he did.  He knew the victory that he had found in Jesus.  Sounds so cliché and an easy lead for a comedian, but it was true.  He knew how different his life was as a result of his faith in Jesus.  All of these thoughts run through my mind and the tears start to form.  This Sunday was a little different.  The song started and the thoughts started to swirl when out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow of a man behind the baptismal.  He was mopping up the water left behind after the baptisms we had just witnessed. I realized that man was my dad. This set off a whole new chain of thoughts. 

I would pay money to hear my grandad sing that song again, but am so glad it isn't only his song to sing. My dad may not sing it as loudly but he lives the victory found in Jesus.  I like to think I'm a little more on key when I sing but it isn't the key that really matters.  I'm just thankful to know the same victory in Jesus that my grandad and dad know and that someday we'll have the opportunity to sing it together again. 

"Where do babies come from?" – A.

"Moms and dads." – Kelly

"When are we going to get a baby? And a dog?" – A.

"We aren't going to get a baby." – Kelly

"'Cause we are going to get a dog? – A.

"I'm afraid he's never gonna get his junk out of here." – E.

Speaking of the boxes in her daddy's den.

Yesterday was a beautiful summer day in Michigan.  The temperature was somewhere in the mid-80's, low humidity, and just enough cloud cover to give you a break from the sun.  The perfect day for me and the girls to head to the lake.  We – more like I – packed up all the sand toys, life vests, floaties, picnic lunch and all the other things we think we need for a day at the lake.  Somehow I manage to squeeze the wagon in the car so that we all look a little less like pack mules.  This year I had the brilliant idea to pack some things in a backpack so that even the little ones could join in the struggle of lugging all our goods for what seems like an eternal walk from the parking lot to the beach. Actually this year I noticed that the packing, loading of the car etc., seemed to go a little smoother.  Perhaps it was the fact that my 15 year old niece was here to lend a hand, or the fact that as my girls grow they are becoming amazing helpers.  Any way you look at it I was amazed that I could easily shut the hatch on the car and I don't think I even raised my voice once in the whole getting-ready process.

We made the long trek to the beach where we were greeted by friends, and the girls immediately started enjoying everything that is fun about the lake.  I enjoyed sitting and chatting with friends and watching the girls have fun.  I even ventured into the water, which I usually dread and avoid if at all possible.  A wanted me to hold her in the water which I gladly did.  Later we ventured over to the splash pad where I swung her through one of the fountains and enjoyed her giggle.  I've always enjoyed picking my girls up and swinging them through the water but this time was different.  Almost three months ago the simple pleasure of picking up my toddler was something that I couldn't manage.  I was recovering from major surgery, and even if I could have withstood the pain the lift would have caused, I  lacked the energy.  I never knew how painful recovering from surgery could be, but just as excruciating is the missing out on the simple pleasures of life such as picking up your child. 

Yesterday I swung my smallest girl through a water fountain and gave her sister an underdog.  I stood in the water and watched my two big girls demonstrate their swimming skills.  The long trek from the car to the beach didn't even seem as long as usual.  It hit me when I was in the splash park swinging A that I was doing normal things, the things I did last year pre-surgery.  The things I wanted to do so badly post-surgery, but feared I would never be able to do again.  God is so good to give us simple pleasures in life and even better to give us opportunities to find new joy in those simple pleasures.

Jason:  "I really like magic cookie bars."

M:  "What, do they disappear?"