My sweet Daniel

So here is the sweet story about my sweet boy that I mentioned in my Mini Vay-cay #1 post yesterday.  And I mean it.  If you have any heart at all, you should probably grab a tissue and begin to read...

To set the stage, I need to give a little background.  First of all, Daniel loves soldiers.  I know it probably mostly has to do with his beloved Uncle Jay.

Daniel proudly wears his favorite outfit and real Army Hat!

The other thing you should know before I tell this story is that I am truly my father's daughter.  Have you seen this floating around Pinterest?  Well, it pretty much sums up what I mean by "Father's Daughter".

The last thing that you should know (especially in relation to #2) is that Ellie is-- drum roll, please-- officially potty trained!  Whoo-hoo!  Yes, that is a whoo-hoo in regards to diapers and the like; however, it is NOT a whoo-hoo in regards to the need to stop.  Every 45 minutes.  But, it is what it is. 

Now, to the tissue part...

We are scooting right along last Monday on our way to West Virginia.  Probably only stopped about 4 or 5 times at this point (to potty in the little potty chair in the back of the mini van, of course).  Yes, you do note a bit of sarcasm.  But my kids are not fussy, and traffic is not too crazy.  So I'm feeling pretty good.  Enter not one, but two big buses filled with "soldiers".  I have my cruise on, so I am just a-zippin' on by.  By the time Daniel sees the bus, realizes who is on that bus, I am already passed them.  But he exclaims, "Stop, Mama!  There are soldiers on that bus!  Uncle Jay might be on that bus!"  I reassure him that Uncle Jay is NOT on that bus; he was already in Texas.

But Daniel continues. 

"But I didn't get to wave to them!  Slow down, Mama.  Please!"

Now, I have to confess that there was a great struggle in my spirit for the briefest of moments.  (Remember #2?!)  My first instinct was to rationalize (ha!) with him that we had already passed them, we'll look for more, etc.  But the Holy Spirit gently encouraged me in my heart, "Leah, what is the rush?  It will not kill you to slow down."

And I am.  So grateful. That I can say: I listened.

Granted, I had to go about 50 mph for about 5 minutes for those blessed buses to catch up, but 50 mph I went!

(Seriously, if you don't have a tissue.  Now is your last chance.)

The Lord was so kind.  The buses had "split" with one on my left and the other on my right.  Daniel's seat is on the right side of the van, behind the passenger seat.  I was really dragging so that the first bus (on our right-- Daniel's side!) could "catch" us.  Some of the soldiers were sleeping-- or at least resting against the window of the bus.  But as they came past us, I started waving like a crazy person and pointing back to Daniel, who was also waving like a crazy person so that they could see that it was actually a little dude who was so thrilled to see them.  And the expression on their faces.  Oh, my.  When the first soldier realized what was happening (a small little boy was just thrilled beyond belief to see them!), they started motioning to the others behind, and the whole side was waving and grinning like nobody's business to my sweet little boy who proudly proclaims, "Mama!  They see me.  THEY SEE ME!" 

Enter the bus on the left.  Again, I start the waving and pointing like a crazy person bit.  And, again.  One soldier sees what's happening (this time, my sweet boy is leaning over as far as his federally approved child safety seat will allow!).  And, again.  Their faces just light up as they begin to wave to my happy little man.

Now, I stayed between those buses as long as I was able, but there was a split in the highway coming right up (Thank You, Lord, for Your perfect timing!), but we were heading one way as the buses were heading the other.  We kept waving and smiling-- with waves and smiles being returned-- as long as we could.  And as the bus headed off in their direction, my sweet Daniel says so matter of factly...

"Oh, the bad guys must be over there.  Because all those soldiers are going that way.  To keep us safe.  Just like Uncle Jay."

Praise the Lord I was still going 50 mph.  I am not kidding you.  Tears were streaming down my face.  And I was just thanking the Holy Spirit for His gentle reminder that my GPS was not nearly as important as I had previously imagined.  What a precious memory-- for me and my sweet boy.  And those soldiers.  I found myself thinking that perhaps at least one of them needed to see the adoration of my child-- they needed to know that they are my little boy's hero.  And I needed to remember the value of a moment.