Blessed Day

Scott and I went to Derrell’s funeral Mass this morning and the boys stayed with Mom and Dad. I came home early and Mom & Dad dropped the boys off soon after. I think it was my boys. It looked like them, kinda smelled like them, but something was off. I was putting up groceries and cleaning the kitchen when I heard Christian say, “Come on Jackson, let’s go play baseball while Mom does this. You can hit first.” When I finished with the groceries I went outside to pull some weeds. The boys went running to get their gloves and a garbage can so they could help. When I asked Jackson to take some things to the trash, he did it. He didn’t even whine about it.When we came back inside covered in dirt and sweat and I asked the boys if they wanted to go swimming. Of course they raced upstairs to get swimsuits. When I asked Christian to bring mine down, he did, without me having to go up there and show him which drawer. When Jackson had trouble getting his swimsuit on, Christian helped him and didn’t once call him a baby. When Scott got home we all took the dogs for a walk, and there was no bickering. When we got home, they played baseball out front until after dark and I never heard them call each other cheater, or sore loser, not even once. I know there are good days and bad days, and being brothers isn’t always easy, but for some reason, this was an exceptionally good day for them. I can’t prove that there is any connection, but I’m thinking that the last time they had a day this good was the last time I went to Mass. Something to think about…