A Story About Eggs

"The other day, I went back to the chickens, and I found an egg.  It was an egg that was badly broken.  It was smooshed all over and seeping out onto the ground.  Do you know what that egg reminds me of?  It reminds me of you.  You're feeling angry right now, a little bit broken.  Did you know that there is nothing so broken that God cannot fix it?"

As I sat listening to my husband talking to my oldest, tears welled in my eyes.
What Michael didn't tell Million was that the particular egg he was describing was an egg that one of our chickens had cannibalized.  With the cold weather, the egg froze before we could get to it and cracked open.  Sadly, one of our chickens thought it an adequate food source instead of being willing to move down the ladder 3 feet to the feeder.  We will have to determine soon which chicken it is and get rid of it, or the chicken will teach the rest of the chickens to eat the eggs.

Like that egg, Million has been pecked on by others.  He has never had a "fair" chance at life.  His course was predetermined for him.  He has had so many circumstances both in Ethiopia and here in the United States that could lead a child to become angry and embittered.

But...

There is nothing so broken that God cannot fix it.

And that is our hope.  Our faith.  Our prayer.

We acknowledge that we may never see complete healing in him.
But we press on.
Because our God is a healer who delights in making broken things whole.  

When I Try to Transcribe Million's Stories

We've been a sick house once again for the last 10 days.

I have not been as good about stifling complaints as I purposed to be.

I went to a midwife appointment today, and there is no news to be shared.  Jubilee's still measuring big, still head down, and due date is still up in the air.  

Michael has been reading The Hobbit to Million at bedtime.  With homeschooling, to be honest, I've been lax lately.  (He isn't technically even in kindergarten, so I don't feel guilt over this.) However, I am amazed at how much he picks up just through conversation with Michael and I and from listening to books.  After The Hobbit, we'll probably do a more relaxed book.  He's enjoyed Roald Dahl and C.S. Lewis books and Mr. Popper's Penguins (actually, Creedence likes that one as well).  I'm not sure what we'll move onto.  He really does like the books with heroism and villains to be defeated, though.  Maybe a tamed-down version of Robin Hood?  Or Peter Pan?  I suppose Michael and Million still have 14 chapters to go before I plan the next thing.  They only read about every other night, because the chapters are lengthier---they take Michael anywhere from half an hour to an hour to read after Creedence goes to sleep.  

Today Million made up a story for about a half an hour.  I tried to transcribe it midway through for about three minutes, and then I gave up, because I was already losing about every eighth sentence.  This particular story was narrated while he was playing with a pipe cleaner that he was pretending was a snake named Flumungo... This is verbatim.

"One day he was trying to be sneaky and sly and hissed at his grandma.  He climbed up way in a tree.  The snake saw something.  "What? Is it grandma swinging along?" said Flumungo.  He looked under the branch and he looked at his tail, and grandma wasn't sleeping.  She's still snoring under the blanket.  Flumungo didn't understand.  He crawled under grandma's blanket and snored with his tail sneaking out of the covers which were very sly.  He was very sneaky.  He got out and slithered off in time for his breakfast.  Flumungo was awake.  Grandma was there.  "Hello!" Grandma called.  But grandpa didn't answer.  So Flumungo woke up Grandpa.  Grandpa didn't answer.  "Grandpa! Wake up with joy."  Grandpa went "ugh."  But Flumungo hid because he was scared of grandpa tickling him.  "He will not tickle me if I hide!" he cried. So he messed up grandma's blanket.  Uh-oh, Grandma's blanket was ruined.  Grandma was angry when she came in the room.  She saw her blanket wrinkled and the sad, sly snake, but just as the doorbell rang, his family and sister were here.  He crawled and hissed off. "What is all this clothing?" said Papa.  "I will never like to crawl."  So he hopped off and laughed, and he smiled at his daddy just as daddy tried to climb.  But mother just hissed, "Hi, you guys, I will never ever let you go."  But daddy just turned back and just smacked his shoe just as Mr. McGregor came and saw some clothing and yowled "Who is that snake lying at my grandma's door?"  "It is I! I took out the clothing!"  And then Mr. Gregory tried to smack him, but he was a frog."  

And the story continued on for another 15 minutes.  The boy can seriously talk.  And listen.  

When he wants to.  I'm still working on actual narration skills for after we finish reading school paragraphs.  Free storytelling and"What do you remember about what we read?" are two completely different things.  

I would not be surprised if part of Million's life adventure was to be a storyteller in some way, shape, or form.  

Million and I have been talking about and memorizing 1 Corinthians 15:58 lately.  We talk about how each of us has a work that God wants us to do, and we need to be steadfast in doing that work.