The Rest of The Story

When I was in elementary school my family participated in a neighborhood carpool group to get my brother and I back and forth to school. We went to a private Christian school (so no buses) but my parents got lucky in that our small neighborhood had three other families with large vehicles and children at the same school. I still remember sobbing at the front window waiting for Mrs. Sherrill to show up on Monday mornings when I had safety patrol duty. She was ALWAYS late and I was, after all, the Captain of the patrol so I was supposed to be early. I'm surprised I survived those mornings - both that my parents didn't kill me and that my heart managed the stress of it all.

Often when it was Mrs. G's day to pick us up we'd climb into her enormous Chevrolet station wagon and get to hear the "rest of the story". Literally always just in time to hear the culmination to whatever great tale Paul Harvey had been weaving.

Well, if you saw my post a couple of weeks ago on Facebook about Jake heading out one evening to deliver pictures he'd drawn to our neighbors . . . now you can get ready for the rest of the story.

When Jake got home that evening awash in the glow of sharing his art with adoring fans he immediately began planning which pictures he would draw next and deliver to the neighbors he'd missed. We assured him we would take him out again soon and kissed him goodnight and put him to bed. Aaaah, we smiled, what a sweet, wonderful boy we have there.

The next morning my cell phone rang from my bedside table rousing me out of a sound sleep. I grabbed it and noted first the time and then the fact it was a local number that I didn't recognize. I almost didn't answer but curiosity got the better of me. Good thing I did answer because who was calling me at 6:39 a.m. but my neighbor down the street who had been roused from her sleep by Jake and Ainsley knocking at her door in the pajamas to deliver a picture. Even better she was NOT the first stop they had made apparently. Bless Kathy's heart she called me to let me know that she had two of my children in her possession. I gasped, began apologizing profusely and assured her that Ryan would be right down. He was walking out the door before I even hung up the phone.

What I wouldn't give to have been a fly on Jake and Ainsley's bedroom wall to see who woke up whom and what conversation preceded a early morning trek down Midland Trail.

God is watching out for my little chicks in more ways than one but tonight as I write out this story I'm thankful for kind neighbors, good cell phone reception in our house, and a house at the end of quiet, gravel street.