Labor Day . . . KRAP style!

KRAP: Kulp, Rutland, Adamo People

(Mike, I think this will really catch on just in time for our t-shirts next year!)

This year marked our third family vacation to North Carolina.

(We missed you Jud, Pam, Julia, Sam, Bobby, Debbie, and Geoff!)

I always look forward to this trip: the cool air, the beautiful view, the funny stories, the gross-live-but-tasty-dead fish, the golf cart rides, the Christmas trees, the morning dew, the weak coffee, the Fowler hospitality, the curvy roads, the quiet mornings, watching college football, playing with the kids, the inside jokes, Mancala tournaments, the glory of God, and the yummy biscuits are just a few of the reasons.

Pictured below are a few more.

Annika with her first catch! A nice trout, huh?

Sweeeeet Caroline (duh, duh, duh) and Annika

Okay, so this is my FAVORITE part of the weekend-Family Worship.
It usually occurs on Sunday morning, but this year we promised to go to church with the Fowlers. We had it on Saturday night instead.

Mike and Jack (Clapton)

Does it get any better than listening to father and son play their guitars while praising HIM?

Barbie and Caroline

and mother and daughter beaming with pride?

I know that God looks forward to this part of our weekend every year, too. Our hearts belong to Him, and it is a wonderful feeling to know where your dearest loved ones will spend eternity.

We have decided to make ourselves fools for Him.

Unconcerned with dignity, He made us free. That's proof enough for us!

(Thanks for the inspiration, Nichole Nordeman!)

Misunderstood

Pictures speak louder than words.

Save the drama for your mama!

Oh . . . she did.

Kitchen sink friends

Sometimes I am jealous of people who have the gift of musical ability (Pam). At other times I covet the gifts of the financially focused (April) or those who seem to exercise EVERY single time they say they will (Lori).

But lately, I have dreamed of being a dishwasher.

Do you have dishwashing friends? You know, those friends who are content to clean up the mess in the back while you relish in the company of visitors.

I am a little embarrassed to admit that I have never been this friend. I quite enjoy being right in the middle of the activity. In fact, I hate to leave the room until everyone else has departed.

What if something exciting or fun happened after I left?

Lately I have realized just how grateful I am to my dishwashing friends. There's Laura and Melanie at church, Carrie at Book Club, Brenda at work, Ingrid, Paul, and Thora in Norway,

and then there's Cindy throughout it all.

These people are the spine of the Body of Christ.

I am praying that even though I'm not a dishwasher, I will raise a part-timer at least.

**Please don't misinterpret this email. God blessed me with other gifts for which I am very grateful. But I will never need a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

Um, Daddy. . .

do you think I'm growing up too fast?

Edit: For those of you who dig the shoes . . . www.shopplasticland.com. They were on sale!!!

Letting go . . .

Butterbean has been napping at daycare without a pacifier for about three months now. I had casually mentioned to her teacher, Jenni, that I was going to wean her from the "paci" before she turned two in September. Two days later, Jenni informed me that Annika no longer used it at school. I told myself that I would follow suit at home.

First it was that Annika said she "needed" it. Then it was the excuse of her staying at my mom's house and being in a different environment. Next it was Geoff and I discussing that we needed the comfort of the paci on the cross-Atlantic flight to Norway.

Today, when I picked up my precious baby girl from school. She informed me that she went tee-tee on the potty after her nap.

As I praised her, hugged her, and let her call the grandparents, I realized the true reason I haven't weaned her from her paci . . .

I wasn't ready to let go of my baby.

Tonight after our normal bedtime routine, I placed her in her crib and told her I loved her. She said, "I need my paci, Mommy."

I replied, "No you don't. We don't have any more pacis, but this cute pink moose can sleep with you!"

She whispered, "Night, night. I love you, Mommy."

And she's been asleep ever since.

Dance Party

**Please pardon the video kick, but I just recently figured out how to post them correctly. . . thus, I'm addicted.

When Geoff is out of town on business, Annika and I keep ourselves occupied with "dance parties". Today, when she asked for one, I had to oblige. She dances without inhibition, just like I always dreamed of doing myself. She hears shouts of encouragement and lots of hand-clapping from me. We've been partaking in these DPs for a few months now, and until today I simply viewed them as a fun ritual.

However, please note that my daughter places her hands up in the air, looks toward our heavenly father, and says, "Praise you!" several times. It moved me, so I had to share it with you all.

(The song is Mary Mary's "Shackles", which is an absolute favorite in our household.)

Fifteen seconds (maybe a little more) of Fame

This is for all of you long-distance Butterbean fans! Annika has become a bit of a drama queen, so I thought she needed even more encouragement in that department. Enjoy!

This is her rendition of "Simon says I must stare at the lamp."

. . . and this one is Annika mocking her daddy's dancing techniques.