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Bubbles and beauty. Iridescence bursting sudsy on my sun warmed arm. Sometimes, life is very good.

I sit and write as they scribble in the blackberry ink I showed them how to make–one of my better ideas. Telling them that in Israel they whack trees to get the olives down wasn’t one of those good ideas. The poor plum tree.

Honest children’s voices. Unexpected insight how they see me, despite my scoldings.

“The boys are imps,” writes the eldest. “They were able to pull and shove Arielle off the couch. I think it is hilarious and entertaining… Maybe we’ll watch the movie Turbo. Arielle is awesome, kind, silly, sweet, understanding, smart, funny, amazing, nice, and epic.”

I have an impact. They see me as this, despite my faults. My God is a good God.

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