Today my brother and his family are staying with us. I watched 3 of his kids and two of mine for a good part of the day. That means an almost 10 year old boy, a 5 year old girl, two 2 year old boys and my 7 1/2 month old boy.
The morning was fairly chill and when it came to nap time, both the 2 year olds were tired but neither would go to sleep. I gave them a good long "rest" in their respective sleep places but neither ever actually fell asleep. So upon giving up on them taking a nap I decided they needed an outing. Since I don't have enough car seats to drive them all somewhere I decided we would walk to the new park near my house.
I put the baby in the Bjorn and grabbed the wagon. I put on 5 pairs of shoes and headed off on the dirt trail in the mountains behind my house to go up and down the hills and to the park.
On the way there everyone walked on their own (well except Harrison of course) and was in good spirits. Berkeley pulled the empty wagon for me. The weather was great and it was fun. We got to the park and everyone had fun.
By the time we were done playing, my no nappers were melting. They were tired. They didn't want to walk or rather hike. It was mostly uphill to get home. So I put the 2 year olds in the wagon and with the baby on my chest I pulled the wagon as Berk pushed. The 5 year old was a trooper. She really wanted to ride in the wagon with the little guys but she hiked like a pro instead.
So as I pulled and Berk pushed that wagon, I thought of my pioneer ancestors pulling their handcarts. Some said in their lowest moments they felt the angels pushing them on. I thought of them in that moment and I felt great gratitude. Gratitude for their endless sacrifices day after day to blaze a trail of faith for me to follow.
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