This morning I woke up to a familiar scene: Burl and Fern were awake before me. Burl was dressed and ready for school, and they had set up breakfast. It was the cutest scene. They were so proud of themselves. They always tell me how they solved problems they encountered: "we used paper towels because we didn't have any napkins clean," "we couldn't find a sippy cup for Ridge, so we got his snack pack."
Then, the sweetest part: Burl wrote me a note on a princess napkin, a move I make when I pack their lunches. John laughed at this, "Wow Meg, he is his mother's son."
Since Ridge was born and even more with Lark, Burl and Fern have been very helpful. I used to feel guilty about this, worrying that they were losing their childhood in effort to help ease Mama's load. Then, a sweet friend said in passing, "God didn't mess up by putting your kids where they are." I turned my worries into prayers that "God would use this time in their lives to turn their hearts into servant hearts for God's glory." That's what I silently pray when the worry creeps in that they have to help too much. When they setup breakfast like this and are overjoyed to show me their surprise, I trust that the Lord knows what He is doing far more than I do.