You'd better sit down...

Four years ago today, a voice on the other end of our phone spoke the word that would irrevocably change our lives: "Twins." How innocent and benign that one word seemed at the time. Four years later, well, nothing in my life thus far has so challenged me, so exasperated and wrecked me, so drawn ugly qualities that I did not even believe possible out from within me (Patience? It's been permanently blotted out in my list of virtues.), so left me clinging for dear life to the words of prayer, "Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy" and screaming for respite, than being a mother of twins. Oh yes, there have been intense, I mean INTENSE, moments of desperation. Times when, in a near frenzy, I could do nothing else but swig down large quantities of holy water and then reach for the red wine just to make it through one more hour. After all you do remember the Sons of Thunder's proclivity for flinging apple sauce across the room, dumping the cinnamon, and the coffee, and the potty? (Just to mention a few.) Quite often Jared and I marvel that we have made it this far in one piece.

And now four years later, yes there are currently sundry items on the roof outside Russell's and Elliot's bedroom window - underwear, Star Wars guys, Legos - and yes, the shades in their room have been shredded almost beyond recognition, and their beds bear numerous scars of rough play, as well as additional appendages holding them together because of four tiny feet that could not help jumping on them, and really, my husband just yesterday recovered toys (for the second time in a year) thrust down the toilet by nimble hands (Thankfully this time we didn't have to call Ty from Budget Drain. Yes, we are on a first name basis with the plumber. If that doesn't sum up these four years, nothing does.), and absolutely, we recently with much chagrin wrote a check for over $100 to have five CD's which were jammed into our computer removed: These little boys possess the most beautiful spirits, they love and they love and they love.

And in their giving of themselves, they show no respect of persons. Recently at their four year check-up a nurse practitioner very sternly asked the boys if they should ever talk to strangers. Inwardly I cringed knowing the answer they would give and the look of reproval I would receive. "Yes!" they replied with excitement and pride in their voices. "Yes!" It was like they thought they finally found something they did well. And its hard to want to dissuade them when I see how happy they make all those strangers to whom they talk. "What your name is?" "What your middle name is?" "What your back name?"

And their sense of humor? Have you seen them morphe into characters like the "Little Old Man," "Mr. Mysterious," the infamous "Pirate," or Marlon Brando yelling, "Stella!" And no one can quite reenact their fearless protector, "godfather" Troy, as he repetitively beat the life out of a threatening wasp with a magazine like these two. Who else, mind you, would not, could not, be cajoled into dressing up as cool super heroes like Spiderman and Bat Man but adamantly insisted upon being Johnny Cash and our pediatrician Dr. Omar for Halloween?

And their hearts? Admittedly they have a tendency to poke their sister in the eyes and they still bite, scratch, and pinch each other on occasion (okay, frequent occasion), but they are also in turn generous and gentle and their hearts are pure. And while we as their parents attempt with grace to teach and emulate Christ to these little boys, it is them, it is you, our Wonder Twins, who actually teach Him to us. What an honor to be your parents. "Are you happy Mommy?" Oh yes, my beloveds. Terribly, wonderfully happy. And so incredibly blessed.