The kiddos showed up to school Election Day morning dressed to the nines. They had their stump speeches all ready eager to win my vote.
Even Michelle Obama came out. I wonder who she's wearing?
Not to be outdone Baby decided to join in on the campaign as well.
I'm loving that my kids love America.
Speaking of loving this land of ours, we are ushering in Thanksgiving season with a bountiful harvest. So thankful for this man, his hard work, and the opportunity my Yahoos have in sharing in it.
And now to answer the age old question. ....How many Yahoos CAN you fit into a combine?
I love looking at these pictures. This day was a good day. And I hope every time I look back on them I remember the looks of contentment and satisfaction and joy on everyone's faces.
There is something else I see in these pictures. There is a look in the Yahoos' eyes. Do you see it? It is something deeper than the high from the diesel they're breathing in. The best word I have for it is awe. Not in the machinery. But in the man driving the machine.
Yes, these children are in awe of their father.
CIA agent by day, driver of large machinery by night.
If you have had a decent childhood at all, you know what I'm talking about. Those few moments when you think your parents are superheroes. For some of us this youthful innocence lasts longer than others. But eventually the scales fall from our eyes and we see our parents for who they are. Sinners. Just like us.
In our home we are in the thick of superhero mode. These Yahoos of mine can't get enough of their daddy. Whatever he says....it's truth. Whatever he does.....it's Nobel Prize worthy. And though I tell them Every.Single.Day. the truth about The Honey, they refuse to let go of their fascination of him. And I am treasuring all these things in my heart.
It seems as if from the moment we emerge from the womb we crave greatness. We want to be around it. We are mystified with great athletes, great performers, great thinkers. We pay a pretty high price to score tickets to our favorite games or concerts. We aspire to be the best ourselves. We push ourselves to be at the top. We go to best schools and position ourselves for promotions. Yes, even among lowly housewives we desire Top Dog status. Who can sew the fanciest duds, scrapbook that killer page, bake the best, blog the best, snap that perfect shot the best?
We are all superhero wannabees.
And then I started thinking......
I wonder what kind of superhero my kids see in me? At the end of the day will the trophies I have won be a blue ribbon pie or 10,000 hits on a blog or well behaved kids. Will that be all?
True greatness reaches far beyond time and space. When I think of The Great Ones that came before me it is evident that the trophies they were racing towards were eternal, not temporal. The race they ran was a quiet one without fanfare or applause. They were not The Avengers. They were a rag tag group of men and women. They were the minimum wage earners, the speech impaired, the adulterors, the murderers. God chose to use these everyday losers and make them into spiritual superheroes.
Today I am reminded that my status has already been determined for me. Way back there. On the cross. Jesus took my shame. He took on my kryptonite and gave me a new name and a cape.
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might
become the righteousness of God.
2 Corinthians 5:21
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; The old has passed away; behold, the new has come
2 Corinthians 5:17
And that encourages me. To know that in My Father's eye I am marked.....forever.....as His. To know that though this Mama's cape is tattered and torn, the race that I am running is worth the hard knocks and struggles I face. And at the end of the day this rag tag nobody from no where will receive that trophy I've been running towards.
That is the my superpower.
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