Page 149 of 312

Our first family vacation

Admission to the Indianapolis Children’s Museum: $Free, thanks to the generosity of an old friend. 

Lunch at the Museum: $1, thanks to a tip from aforementioned generous friend, recommending to pack a lunch and pay only a slight fee for a locker. MUCH healthier, too.

Hotel reservation: $Free, thanks to a gift card purchased with credit card points. 
Dinner: $25 at Johnny Rockets (we thought we were to get a Kids Eat Free deal, but they “don’t participate” at that location. Boo hiss, we were on a roll.)
Breakfast: $Free, thanks to the hotel. 
Starbucks coffee: 2 @ $1.85. It had to be done, the hotel coffee was awful. You get what you pay for in that realm. 
Hearing H-Boy exclaim “Wooooooowwwwww” in sheer awe of the dinosaurs as we approached the museum: worth every penny. 
Waiting our turns to race a car down the slide. 

Pretend racing in the Hot Wheels exhibit. 

Who says genius doesn’t come early? She built this *almost* by herself. Sorta. 

H-boy was totally into the building. Miss M – also, kinda

Baby C wasn’t going to ride the carasel caraceul caraseul merry-go-round, but she kept pointing to a horse on display. As soon as she sat in the “saddle” she was bouncing with joy! 

Miss M, also thrilled with the ride. 

In the car no more than 5 minutes from leaving the museum. H-boy was out about 10 minutes later.  
*Not pictured: excitement over trains, touching dino bones, M-girl jumping from coral, and 18 trips to the bathroom. 
Let it be known: we slept horrible, the kids are tired and the eggs at the hotel (my only real option for breakfast) sucked. Not to mention H-Boy peed his pants in the car because he drank so much water at dinner. But this was in the fine print of parenting, right? The things we “treasure in our hearts” and remember fondly? We block out the pee. 

The sick and the twisted

Sick people flocked to Jesus. Guys with shriveled hands, women hearing voices, scary characters who were typically chained to trees, young men trucked around on a pallet all day (and let’s not forget the bleeding woman)… it seems that if you had any physical or mental malady, then by the second chapter of any gospel you’ve zeroed in and hunted down Jesus to ask a favor. 

I cannot let it drop: a religion and a faith belief existed for centuries (eons!) but when Jesus showed up, it’s evident that the religious system had nothing to offer these people. The crowds followed Jesus, sick and hurting, hoping his words and touch would bring healing.

But the religious folk? They watched Jesus from afar, offering critical commentary on his perceived shortcomings, waiting for him to misstep on the Sabbath. They waited anxiously to announce how exactly this round peg of a messiah wouldn’t fit through the square hole they’d carved through their understanding of scripture. 
Those whom religion served best needed nothing from Jesus, or so it seemed to them. 
It’s fascinating to me to watch how those at the top of the food chain resisted the change, they missed the messianic meaning. More so, they tried to control and limit the Goodness of the News Jesus brought with him. “We need to limit this, we can’t just have people being healed on the Sabbath!” they said in their board meetings. 
Jesus offered a faith that served those who needed it rather than a belief that continued to serve those at the top. 
 

The work of the daily

Three loads of laundry, a trip to the grocery store, reheating leftovers for lunch. Vacuuming. Getting dressed, brushing teeth, making beds. Vacuuming. Making it to a toilet in time. Cutting our own chicken.  Vacuuming. 

Chores, household duties and basic responsibilities are not what gets in the way of life, but they’re where life happens. Somewhere, someone (probably Pinterest) told us that if we have it together, these things occupy the peripheral regions of life but the in the focal point lies vacations, promotions and that day you hit the lottery. A fox snuck into the hole and said, “get it together, get the house clean and then you can come out and play! That’s where you’ll make memories with your kids. That’s where they learn and grow.” 
Liar. 
We can allow some imaginary standard to weigh heavy on our shoulders as we think about what it takes to keep a house running. Or we can decide to live each day, drudgery included, knowing that today is the stuff of life. We’re not merely filling hours until the next Main Event. Each day is the main event, when we choose to see it that way. 
Living from highlight to highlight misses the point of life. Sure, it can be tougher to grin and bear it when the kids are whiny and dinner tastes subpar. Survival mode might be necessary in the first trimester or during finals week. But even “making it” allows moments to transform into memories with your eyes wide open to it. 
 
« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 Michele Minehart

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑