Red, White, and You!

The boys got to meet their teachers at HCA's "Red, White, and You" Back to School BBQ tonite!

It was very exciting, having driven by the campus so many times this Summer, to be able to walk through the doors for the first time. It was not long after walking through them that I was hit with a sudden and unexpected wave of "What am I doing here?" One look at the "Welcome to Kindergarten" sign on Mrs. Clackett's door, and I was the puddle of emotion I'm surprised I haven't been sooner.

Mrs. Clackett, however, could not have been sweeter. She seems like the quintessential Kindergarten teacher, and though she apologized "if it seems like all they do is play in her class (she said she stresses a lot of learning through play)," that sort of emphasis sounded PERFECT to me for a room full of five year olds.

"Room full" is kind of a misnomer. There are only four kids in Jones's class, which is absolutely incredible to me. I think that student:teacher ratio will be so, so good for Jones. I consider it a real God-send, evidence of His personal care for my timid, tender Jonesie Bug. Further comforting my tends-to-be-anxious kid was the train table in the middle of the classroom, as well as the fact that a classmate from Clyde First Baptist will be the other boy in the class.

Thank You, God, for Your loving kindnesses to my boy.

Jones refused to have his picture taken with Mrs. Clackett (here's hoping he'll let me get one on Thursday morning), but beyond that, he seemed VERY settled in his new classroom. And can you blame him? The frog-shaped name card on his TOP SHELF CUBBY (at Clyde, Jones ALWAYS wanted to get there early, so he could score a first-come, first-served top shelf cubby) is GREEN. Guess what his favorite color is and always has been - GREEN, so seeing the green frog on the top shelf was just about all of the excitement he could handle.

From there, we visited with Mrs. Burke, Freddie's teacher. Her room isn't yet ready, so he'll start the year at New Covenant Church and then transfer to the Main Campus in a month or so. Still, we loved her, too, and were thrilled to hear that her daughter has eczema, as well, so she'll be especially compassionate to our baby Bear.

Headmaster Herbert's brief comments were amazing. Her heart for Christian education - and her announcement that the accreditation board referred to the school as "having God's fingerprints all over it" - were beautiful affirmations of why the boys are at HCA. I'm remain prayerful that God will let me keep them home for school after this first year, but I am nonetheless convinced that, for as much as I wish He'd let me homeschool them this year, they are exactly where He wants them to be.

And THAT is exactly where I want them to be.

His letter from Mrs. Clackett this Summer
contained a ticket to retrieve something from
the classroom Treasure Box on
Red, White, and You nite.
Jones has been looking SO forward
to claiming his price, which was ...
A SCOOBY DOO TOY!

Peep that train table!
Jones Pressley will be RIGHT at home! 

This right here - this is what
turned on the waterworks.

There's Scooby!

A GREEN FROG! A TOP CUBBY! 

The boys were THRILLED for the chance to play
in the classroom kitchen! 

The Wolves Den (I think that's what
they called it) Lunch Room

Mom bought both boys a new HCA
shirt - of course, Freddie had to put
his on right away. #clotheshorse

The boys ran and played in the open
field, while we waiting in line
for the really delicious barbecue.

Freddie found a dandelion,
and, as he always does when he finds one,
he had to run it over to his Mama.  

God bless these precious boys. 

Tailgate Picnic in "Nana Pop's" flatbed 

Of course, Freddie slept in his new shirt.

Close Encounters of the BEST Kind

Last nite, the boys went to bed as usual. About fifteen minutes later, I heard Freddie yelling for me. Assuming he was just wanting to ask something asinine, like "What are we doing tomorrow?" I ignored him for a few minutes, but when he persisted, I went in. It's a good thing I did. His nose was bleeding - not badly, but it was enough to warrant a trip to the kitchen. Off we went to clean him up.

Afterwards, Jeremy asked if Freddie wanted to sit in his lap and watch a little "Bonanza" before bedtime. OF COURSE, he did, and since it was still only about 8:30, I didn't argue about it. About fifteen minutes later, I put Freddie back in bed.

Well, because it was so much darker than it usually is when he goes to bed, he screamed bloody murder. I went back to his room, and he said, "Mama, I'm just scared," so I scooped him up and rocked him and reminded him that "When I am afraid, I will trust in Him" and that God is always with us even though we can't see Him.

We sang some more and prayed, and then I put Freddie back to bed.

Again.

I'd barely gotten down the hall when he yelled out, "Mama! Come look!" I walked back to his room. "I can see the moon," he said, super excited about the fact. "I'll bet God moved that there, so that you would have more light in your room. That's how much He loves you, Buddy." When I left his room, Freddie was reveling in his new view.

I decided I'd go ahead and take my bath (like I used to do with my own parents, Freddie likes it when I'm in his "quadrant" of the house at bedtime). After a few minutes, Freddie yelled at me, out of nowhere, "That was nice of Him to move the moon."

I smiled, knowing that my baby boy had encountered the God of the universe - the Maker of Heaven and Earth, the Star Breather, the Mover of the Moon, Who, nonetheless, knows the number of hairs on Freddie's head. It must've made a pretty big impact on Freckle, too, because he hadn't been up for ten minutes before he'd told both his Daddy and his brother about how God had moved the moon to meet Freddie's need.

I hope and pray he's always that in awe of the One Who loves him to the moon and back again.

God loves Freddie.

(In case Freddie ever wonders if God cares about him in a unique, intimate, and personal way, I'm writing this down - raising his Ebenezer, stacking the stones upon which my favorite four year old can build an altar of praise to the One Who created him and who loves him as far as the East is from the West.)

The truth is: I left out a little tidbit from our trip to Tigertown. I didn't want it to taint what was, in reality, a fun family outing, so I didn't mention it. Because I've seen God work on Freddie's behalf since then, though, I want to write it down now.

So on Tuesday nite, Freddie had a pretty massive allergic reaction to a walnut. He had the tiniest of bites - we're talking about as much as a pencil eraser's worth - of a walnut that'd been baked into a brownie served in the JMI Sports hospitality area at Littlejohn Coliseum. Initially, the reaction was totally mild, but by the time we got home, he'd thrown up about 6 or 7 times and was HEAD TO TOE in hives.

Let me back up: for a few months, I've suspected Freddie is allergic to some tree nuts. He's had very mild reactions - but reactions, nonetheless - to pecans (on top of the sweet potato casserole at Thanksgiving dinner), to hazelnuts (I thought he'd LOVE a Nutella sandwich. Nope!), and, now, to walnuts. Almonds and cashews, however, he can - and does! - eat in an unending supply. How weird is that?!

Until Tuesday, the reactions looked like this: he'd take a bite and immediately spit it out, start scraping his tongue, and pulling on his ears. He'd act a little stunned for the next 30 minutes or so  before he'd bounce back and be totally normal. Still, the behavior, though very infrequent, has been enough to catch my attention, so I've just been keeping notes of these things to talk with at Freddie's four year check-up.

That's exactly how the reaction started on Tuesday. He'd no sooner taken in the bite than he immediately screamed and spit it out. It actually seemed like a milder-than-usual reaction. He perked up pretty quickly and enjoyed watching the game - well, playing with SnapChat filters while the rest of us (tried to) watch the game.

I added the incident to my list of things to talk over with the doctor and went on with life. As the boys and I drove home, however, Freddie threw up. And then he threw up again. And then again and then a couple more times. I thought, "Crap. Now, he can't go to school tomorrow, because he's got the stomach bug. I wonder if I should keep Jones home, too - just in case. I hope I don't get the stomach bug!"

By the time we got to Asheville, I'd stripped him (at his request) out of his vomit-covered Batman jammies and wrapped him in a towel that was still in the car from Jones's Monday swim lessons. We were driving by the Long Shoals Road exit when I turn around to see he's unstrapped his carseat and is scratching his back. Freddie's scratching is nothing new; his unstrapping himself to do it, however, is.

I made him re-strap, still assuming it was a stomach bug. I raced home, so I could put him to bed and end his incessant whining. He was obviously miserable, but I assumed it was because he was tired and covered in vomit. I had no idea what was really going on until I pulled him out of the carseat and saw that there was barely a spot on his body that wasn't textured like the ceilings in certain homes (ie., ours).

Hives.

So THAT'S why he was screaming that his piggies were itching.

I got him in a bathtub and dosed him with Benadryl. When I got him out of the tub, he was trembling so much that I wondered if he was having a seizure. I don't think he was. I'm pretty sure he was just cold from the next-to-naked car ride (though I'd cranked the heat up to 89 for the entire ride) and then the lukewarm bathwater. The trembling stopped as soon as I'd lathered him with Eucerin and wrapped him in clean pajamas and his Batman bathrobe.

Then he threw up again. And I was scared - really scared, like more scared than I've ever been before as a mom. Should I take him to the ER? Could I get there in time? Can I give him more Benadryl? What do I do with Jones?

I did what I always do in these types of crises - I called his Aunt Dolly, who NEVER FAILS to calm me down with her unbelievable poise and bedside manner. She said so long as the Benadryl was working, the ER wasn't necessary. The Benadryl WAS working. The hives were going away, and so long as I was holding him tightly, he was starting to relax. So was I.

I kept him up until 11:30 - we watched "Special Agent: OSO" in my bed - and then I put him in his room, where he proceeded to sleep like a baby until about 7 the next morning.

After this experience, I thought to myself, "Yep. We will DEFINITELY be referred to an allergist." I made mental notes of all that happened in order to share then with Dr. O'Donnell at Freddie's February 13th check-up.

When I texted some friends to tell them about it the next morning, one of them said, "Do you think you should call his doctor to see if you can move the appointment up?" I hadn't really thought of that. I'm not one to call the doctor, really (why would I when I have Aunt Dolly?!). But I called them, anyway, leaving a message for a nurse, describing what had happened and saying, "He's fine now. He's even at school! But if you think I should come in sooner, I will."

She called back pretty quickly and immediately said phrases like "I don't wanna scare you," "Epi-pen" and "allergist." In fact, within two hours of my placing the call, Dr. O'Donnell had called in the scrip, and the referral had been made. She also corrected my calendar. I'd written down February 13th for Freddie's appointment. It is actually March 13th - the first of MANY reasons I'm really, REALLY glad I called (which is not like me to do).

As soon as I knew where we were heading with this, I started praying three very specific things:

1) a super, surprisingly-fast referral. I know how long these things typically take, and a BIG part of me thinks his allergy is related to pollen (for reasons I'll go into if it's affirmed), so to get him on a course of treatment before pollen season starts would be AMAZING. All of these nut reactions have happened since he had a reaction to pollen on the face of the lake last April. Since then, he's also started reacting to the fur of dogs (my sister's, Dolly's, our friends the Godfrey's) he's been around without incident his whole life. Plus, his skin stayed flared up ALL SUMMER last year. It never cleared up, so I really think it's a pollen problem, but we will see. The point is, to know if it is or isn't before the first pollen fall would be amazing. But for that to happen, given that we're a month or so from pollen season, the ball's got to get rolling more quickly than these things generally do.

2) an allergist who will treat him thoroughly but not OVER treat him. I don't want to be giving medicines or treatments that aren't necessary, and up to now, he's lived a completely normal, unrestricted life, and I'd love to keep it that way - avoiding, of course, the nuts that seem to be causing problems.

3) that God would affirm for us that we had our guy. I don't know any allergists. I wouldn't even know where to begin to find one. Plus, when you're getting a referral it's a little bit like Russian Roulette - you get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit. So I just prayed that God would show us that His selection to care for Freddie wasn't random, but the perfect person to care for our Bear.

By yesterday at 5 p.m., I had my answers - all three of them, and THIS is what I want for Freddie to read. I want him to read it and stand as amazed as I do that the God Who created the universe, as vast and boundless as it is, was intimately involved in the minute details of a four year old's allergy referral. He IS, after all, our Father, full of love and concern for His precious children.

1) I got the call from Allergy Partners at 4:55 yesterday. The appointment coordinator asked if I wanted their Asheville office or the one in Clyde. In a move that was HIGHLY unusual for me, I said, "Clyde." She said, "I don't have anything in Clyde, until ..." I'm thinking she's gonna say, like, "May," but no. It's "... next Wednesday."

Next Wednesday, as in ONE WEEK FROM THE DAY THE REFERRAL WAS MADE, AS IN THREE OR FOUR WEEKS BEFORE POLLEN SEASON STARTS, AS IN I HAVE CHILL BUMPS EVEN NOW WHEN I WRITE THAT OUT.

2) She told me we'd be seeing Dr. William McCann. As she continued giving me the spiel for what to do to prepare for the appointment, I was Googling the good doctor. Not only does he have REALLY high HealthGrades, but he writes this on his website bio:

"I strive to provide each patient with a comprehensive and personalized evaluation and treatment plan that not only treats his or her condition but fits with his or her lifestyle. I firmly believe that we should work together to control allergic diseases and not let them control you."

Sounds to me like he's not into over-treating, either.

Two for two.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.

3) As I continued to read Dr. McCann's bio, I saw unequivocal confirmation that God had given us the PERFECT person to treat Freddie. He writes, "I have a particular interest in working with patients, both adult and pediatric, suffering from ... eczema."

My baby Bear was first diagnosed with eczema when he was 2.5 months old - which, upon reflection, sort of strengthens my gut instinct that his issue is primarily with pollen. I remember the day I walked into pick him up from his nap. He was in his Pack and Play in his room at my parents', and the smooth-skinned baby I'd put to bed woke up with measles-like bumps all over him. He had a check-up that day or soon after, so I showed it to Dr. O'Donnell then, who said, "He's probably just getting over a virus or something, so this is how he's showing that," but he'd had zero symptoms of anything. Still, I assumed that was that.

Now, I wonder if that was his first reaction to pollen. In retrospect, it'd have been mid-March, which would've been about the right time for the start of pollen season - his first exposure to it.

Who knows.

What I DO know is that Freddie has struggled with eczema for almost his entire life. To read we've been given a doctor who has a specialty in eczema is a very obvious affirmation that God has led us to the perfect person.

I am so grateful.

1) I'm grateful that the reaction wasn't worse than it was.

2) I'm grateful that I got home safely - especially since I was alone with the boys on a lot of dark and lonely roads. If something more had happened during the drive ...

3) I'm grateful we're getting this dealt with before the pollen kicks in again.

4) I'm grateful I said "Clyde" when 99 times out of 100, I'd have said "Asheville." Though I didn't think about it at the time, it occurred to me soon after that, if Freddie DOES end up having to do allergy shots (and I HOPE HE DOESN'T, but if he does ...), Dr. McCann's office is LITERALLY TWO MINUTES from both Clyde First Baptist Preschool and Haywood Christian Academy. It COULD NOT BE MORE CONVENIENT for either of those schools. Even if I eventually homeschool, Clyde is SO MUCH EASIER for us to access than Asheville.

5) I'm grateful I didn't have the Benadryl I typically take every where I go. Having seen Freddie's comparatively mild reactions to nuts and dog fur, I've been carrying Benadryl in my car (and keeping bottles at my parents' and in-laws') for most of the last year. When I left for New York last Thursday, I was VERY proud of the fact that I'd remembered to transfer the bottle to Jeremy's car for the weekend. The first thing Jeremy said when Freddie reacted on Tuesday was, "Do you have the Benadryl?"

Well, dangit.

The "pride" of remembering to put it in to Jeremy's car went right before the "fall" of forgetting to put it back in mine.

But now, I see my forgetting as God's kindness. Had I had it with me, I'd have given him some right then. I'd likely have stopped the reaction, which would've spared me the panic, but at the same time, I'd have masked the severity of a problem that needs to be addressed, so I'm thankful that God redeemed my mistake and used it to be sure Freddie got the care that he needs.

6) I'm grateful that the guy who lives two doors down from us is an EpiPen salesman. He's also a friend and client of Jeremy's. As soon as our pharmacy received Freddie's Rx, they called me to say that our insurance would've cover any and that the cash price was $489. I told them to fill it anyway (I figure Freddie's worth AT LEAST $489, right? :)) and that I'd try to find a coupon.

When I called to tell Jeremy, he remembered Gary. Gary told him about a coupon online that brought the price down to basically Epipen's cost. It's still expensive, but it's almost half of what we'd expected to pay.

Again, grateful.

7) I'm grateful that Gary has already shown us how to use the EpiPen - and that Gary's wife is a nurse, who's two doors down, in case Aunt Dolly is ever unavailable for my panicked phone calls.

8) Finally, I'm grateful for how God has given me peace through a time that I thought would be filled with panic.  Nothing calms a Christian's fear more than knowing God is always with you, and nothing says, "I'm right here. This is part of My plan" quite as loudly as the answers to prayer He so kindly - and quickly - gave us yesterday.

After I put the boys to bed last nite, I sat down to thank Him for what He'd done. Because I write down most of my prayers (otherwise, my mind is all over the place), I can tell you exactly what I said to Him:

"Father, my heart is overflowing with gratitude at Your kind answers to my prayers. Thank you. Thank You for the flood of peace that pours on my head, as I experience Your crystal clear direction in my baby's allergy treatment ..."

That I've had peace instead of panic is what absolutely astounds me the most - until I put down my pen from praying and opened my Bible. It "randomly" opened to Psalm 16, and my eyes fell on verses 7 and 8.

"I bless the Lord, Who gives me counsel. In the nite also, my heart instructs me. I have set the Lord always before me. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken."

So there you have it, Part 1 of Freddie's allergy journey. My prayers are that he's one who'll outgrow his allergy, and that he'll never, ever need the Epipens I won't ever let out of my sight. Still, I am grateful to the One Who's led us all the way, and I want Freddie to always know how deeply his Heavenly Father cares for the little "Bear" He has kept as the apple of His eye.

HCA? OK.

After an amazing Christmas Break and two weeks' of non-stop time with my boys, I was beginning to doubt our decision to enroll them at HCA next Fall. I was already aching with how much I'll miss them and thinking that maybe I SHOULD start homeschooling now instead of later.

The only way to dull the ache was to rehearse to myself the clarity with which God had not only led us to HCA but also made a way, financially-speaking (thank you, FURMAN), for the boys to be there. I started to pray, too - "God, please confirm for me that we're making the right decision."

Well, today, He did just that.

I'd gone in to the boys' preschool to celebrate Freddie's birthday with his class. Jones came to join us, of course. When I went to get him, Jones's class was walking down the hall to the bathroom. Jones saw me, and, instead of running over to me like the homesick little son I assumed he'd be, he instead gave me a wave and a sweet smirk as he kept walking in total silence with the rest of his class.

I was REALLY proud of him for obeying his teacher's directive to be quiet. I was also impressed - and surprised - by how he stayed on task and was undistracted by my being there. I fell in line behind the other pre-K'ers and collected Jones after I'd asked Mrs. Doris if it was okay for me to do so.

After about 20 fun-filled minutes in Freddie's classroom, Jones took my hand. "It's time for me to go back to my class," he said, very matter of factly. I braced for the worst and took him, remembering all too well the fit he'd pitched when I left his classroom after celebrating his own birthday just two months ago.

But today, he dropped my hand as soon as we darkened his classroom's door. He then walked as quietly as could be to his desk, never once looking back at his mama, not asking her to stay or take him with her.

And I had my affirmation.

He has grown up so much in these last few months of school. He's learning, and, maybe more importantly for his age, he likes it there.

Kindergarten, here we come.

(I'm writing this down in case I have another wave of doubt.)

"Here I raise mine Ebenezer ..."

I'd planned to homeschool the boys. 

For a number of reasons, that seemed to be the best choice for us.  I had a nagging fear about teaching the boys to read, for some reason. It's just so foundational, and I knew if I screwed that up, I could really be handicapping their educations for years to come, but still, homeschool seemed to be the best fit for my boys, so we were ready to get Pressley Prep off the ground as soon as they'd graduated from preschool at Clyde First Baptist. 

But first, they started preschool. I enrolled them, thinking it might be good for Jones to be away from me some - maybe it'd help him to mature. I could never have anticipated the change in him that we've seen in the two months since he's started. In fact, Mrs. Doris, who taught him on the days he attended "camp" this Summer, told me last month, "He's not the same little boy I saw back in the Summer." 

I already knew it.

He's grown up SO much, since starting school. Freddie's done great, as well, but Freddie's success was never in doubt. It's Jones's flourishing that's been the most amazing. Seeing it, I started second guessing my plans to homeschool.

Maybe, I thought, Jones NEEDS school. 

So I started to pray for guidance - and to look at our options. Basically, there are two: Haywood Christian and Asheville Christian. I'd always written them off as either too small (HCA) or too far away (ACA). This, of course, fed into our decision to homeschool. 

But when I started praying about it, I decided to visit both schools. My assumption was that HCA would be an immediate, unequivocal "NO;" ACA would be just as resounding a "YES," and the complication would be deciding whether or not I could convince myself that keeping two kindergarteners in the car for 2 hours a day was a wise use of their time. 

Our first visit was to HCA. It took MINUTES for me to know that my pre-conceived opinions about the school were wrong. I was almost instantly at ease with both the school and its mission. Jeremy was, too. I was shocked by how impressed I was and told Jeremy I'd feel completely comfortable with the boys going to kindergarten there. 

We're slated to visit ACA next Thursday. I told Jeremy this week, though, that I don't even know why we're bothering. I know it's a great school - and if HCA doesn't grow before the boys are in high school, it's a definite option for their later grades, but for now, the distance and, more convincingly, the mission of the school, make it a great fit.

So while I felt settled on the school we'd send them to if we were to send them to school, I still wasn't sure if we should send them. With a viable option ten minutes from home, the major hurdle became the money component.

So I prayed.

Then, on Thursday, I got my answer. That's why I'm writing this all down, by the way. I want the boys to know, first, how Jeremy and I came to make the decision that we did, and secondly, how amazingly God directed the choice and provided for their educations. 

The boys were at school, and I knew I needed to read my Bible. I had to FORCE myself to do it on this day - I really remember standing in the doorway to the kitchen, thinking, "Ugh. I have so much else I need to do," but I did it, anyway, and THANK GOD FOR THAT. 

Something I read reminded me of a friend, who's facing a really big decision. I read in Genesis 24 (the same lesson I taught my 3 year olds in Sunday school last week, as a matter of fact!) - it's the account of Abraham sending his servant to find a wife for Isaac. What I love most about that account are how the servant seeks God's direction for his journey and how God answers before the servant stops praying.

On this day, though, something else about the passage jumped out at me.

The servant has VERY SPECIFICALLY asked God to do something; He does it TO THE LETTER, and then the servant sits back to decide if God had blessed his journey. I do that SO OFTEN. God will do something only He can do, and then doubt will crowd my mind, and I'll wonder if it's really Him - or just coincidence (as if that's even a thing).

Reading this, of course, made me think of my friend, so I sent her a video message and told her about it. I then told her about how the servant doubted and how I always do that, too, and I used the example of the boys' school: 

"We're praying about the boys school. Homeschool? Go to school? And if they go to school, it's gonna cost (SUM OF MONEY). We don't HAVE (SUM OF MONEY). God could send us (SUM OF MONEY) TODAY, and I would still sit back and wonder if that what it was for."

That, I thought, was that. I closed my Bible and went on with my life.

At 3:30 that afternoon, I was driving to Greenville for a Children's Theatre board meeting. I checked my email, while I was sitting at a stoplight. I had a completely out of the blue, 1000% unsolicited email from the head of the Education Department at Furman (the one I worked for last Spring, the one who paid for our Disney trip ... even though it got cut in less-than-half (ANGST-Y FACE EMOJI)). In it, she asked me to teach one class this Spring and one class next Fall, the earnings from which, Y'all, WOULD EQUAL (SUM OF MONEY).

In other words, God DID send us (SUM OF MONEY) "today." I immediately knew the answer. The boys are to go to school, and their tuition is COVERED by God's totally unexpected, totally out of the clear blue provision. I was so certain that God was in this that my response was basically that I was so honored to be asked back and very interested in the job. I told them my circumstances had changed, though, and with my boys in school, I'd need them to change the schedule, so I could pick up my boys from school each day. 

I asked this more boldly than I've probably ever asked anything else in my entire life, because I KNEW God was in this. If He could provide the gig, He could EASILY rework the schedule. To be anything less than bold in my response seemed to say I was wavering in my certainty that this was His plan.

I emailed my need for a schedule change to the head of the department around 10 p.m. Thursday. By 11:15 a.m. Friday, it was signed, sealed, and delivered - the course was mine, at the same pay rate as last year and with the schedule that allows me to be back in Canton a full hour before I need to pick up the boys. 

I still get goosebumps when I recount this tale.

CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE THAT????

As I was sharing it with some friends, it occurred to me that I'd have missed out on it altogether, if I hadn't FORCED myself into my Quiet Time that morning (shame on me that I had to FORCE myself). If I hadn't read the account in Genesis 24 that made me video message Leslie, then I wouldn't have unknowingly foretold the EXACT THING THAT GOD WAS PREPARING TO DO THAT VERY DAY. I'd have gotten Furman's email and been totally confused about what I should do - teach or not? And what about the boys??? 

But because the Holy Spirit made it SO CLEAR I HAD to read my Bible that morning, I instead had complete peace - the school decision was settled, and the question of how to pay for it was miraculously answered all by a God Who promises to direct our steps if we acknowledge Him in all our ways. 

I'm not saying they'll be in school forever. In fact, a big part of me would LIKE to bring them home for several years ... but not until AFTER they learn to read, which, we now know, they'll be doing at Haywood Christian Academy.

Go, Red Wolves. 

And THANK YOU, Father, for Your direction and provision. 

Bedtime Prayers

There have been several times that I've walked into our bedroom and seen Jeremy kneeling beside his bed, praying, but I never knew he was teaching Jones to do the same thing, until I walked by Jones's room and saw the sweetest sight ever.

For the Birds

This morning, Jeremy walked out the front door on his way to "Jingle Bells" for our Saturday biscuits. As soon as he stepped on to the porch, he noticed a dead bird lying smack in the center of the terra cotta tile. We were talking about what to do with it when Freddie offered his solution: 

"We gonna pray for him" he said. 

And so we did.

____________

Dear Father, please help my tender-hearted boy to always believe in the power of prayer. Let him practice it multiple times a day that he may be close to the God Who created him and Who longs to work His glory through the answered prayers of little guys like mine. Thank You again for his tenderness. May his heart - and Jones's - always be soft spots for the seeds of Your Word to land and grow into mighty oaks of faith. In Jesus's name, Amen.

"Dada new beeg car"

After two and a half years as a single car family, we finally have a second ride again.

And all God's people said ...

AMEN.

That alone wouldn't really constitute a post, but this sweet little story does:

We've prayed for several months that God would show us the right car and the right time to buy it, so as soon as Jeremy pulled the trigger (last Friday), we thanked God for His answer to our prayer. Yesterday, before we took our first ride as a family of four in the new car, I said to Jones, "Who gave us that car?" He looked a little confused and then answered a somewhat tentative, "We praaaayyyeed." "Yes, but Who answered our prayer and gave it to us?" "GOD!" he said.

Then we went outside to load up. Jones looked at it and said, "Dat preety, Dada new beeg car" (everything that isn't a Hot Wheel is a "beeg car," but SeaSea's double decker conversion van is the "beegest" of all).

For his part, Freddie kept calling it "MY car." I don't think Dada will be down with that, given how long he's been waiting for wheels of his own.

Our first ride was to Cataloochee Ranch.

I love it there, and since they usually hit peak fall color a little earlier than we do, we thought it'd be a good time to see some leaves. It was. It was also a good time for Jones to run around saying he was looking for treasure. I called him "Jake," as in "the Neverland Pirates," and he said, "I no Jake. I just JoJo." Then, he referred to me as "Mama Pi-ut," which I love as much as when he calls me "Mama Pehpees."

When it was time to leave, we drove around the grounds to look for horses. We saw several on a hillside, and when he saw them, Jones said, "Day hoosies (they horses)! Mama, take a cheese!" I'm assuming he means I should take a picture, and the "cheese" comes from all the times I tell him to say it when I want him to smile for the camera. I have a feeling this is one of those phrases that will become part of the Pressley Lexicon:

"Mama, take a cheese!"

On the drive home, Freddie asked to hold my hand: "HEEN!" he'll say from the backseat. If I'm in the passenger seat, I typically reach back and do as he asks. Well, yesterday, he took my left hand in his right one and started patting it with his left hand. He then held my hand up to his cheek and started very tenderly rubbing it on his face. That action alone made up for the less-than-comfortable position I had to contort myself into in order to hold his "heen" in the first place.

This was the scene when Jones asked me to
"take a cheese!"