Heart and Soul

There is nothing better than a double batch of family to fill up your soul and fortify your heart.

On Friday, I got to do one of my all-time favorite things: Throw a bunch of kids in the car and go. Any trip that requires at least one rendition of "On the Road Again" counts as a trip. Scott drove up to the cabin (AKA "The Lot") with Michelle, so I got to bring my kids and Jake. I don't know what it is about it just being me and the kids on a road trip, but I love it. Maybe I just like to be the boss. On one trip to Vegas, we left Scott home to "work" and drove to visit Jeremy and Jenny. I strapped Frestone to a little potty instead of his carseat, and by the time we got there, he was potty trained. Scott NEVER would have gone for that. (Really, who would?) He also doesn't approve of stopping for every chipmunk and eagle when we drive through Yellowstone, so sometimes he gets uninvited. :)

Anyway, we had the best time at The Lot marshing marshmallows, staying up until well past dark, seeing far more stars than we see at home and sleeping with the sound of the river in our ears. Saturday night we went to the best parade ever, in Preston. There were more horses than people trotting down Main Street and more farm equipment than floats, and it was magical.

Coming home, so many rolling hills were dotted with bales of hay, beautiful evidence of much hard work. The kids and I just finished reading Farmer Boy, so I made comments about the farmland ad nauseum. "Look! Those hay bales are the same as the ones Almanzo had to make by hand! Look! Cows just like the ones Almanzo milked every morning before the sun came up! Look! A horse that looks just like Almanzo's horse!" Surprisingly, the littles were interested. I think they really liked Farmer Boy.

Sunday, my DeBry cousins and their spunky, adorable kids came to celebrate Opa's birthday. He would have been 96, and he would have loved to see all the little children. He would have pushed on their heads and told them to stop growing. He would have put them through the tickle chamber. He would have taught them to love chocolate and shun vanilla, taught them how to paint and how to laugh and how to take off and go, seeking adventure.

There was a moment when Scott was standing in a group of my cousins, roaring with laughter, kids in dress-ups were pushing doll strollers all over the house, and I was snuggled up on the couch between Nana, Coco and Uncle Jim. It was the same feeling I had Friday night when all the kids were gathered around the fire at the Lot, all of them sticky with s'mores and building a memory they will have in common forever.

That's heaven. It's what fills your soul and fortifies your heart so that when you're out there in the world, you know there is a place that will always welcome you back. There's a campfire or a cabin or a kitchen where you belong. You are never alone.