When our nephews and neice came to live with us, we didn't eat in a restaurant for weeks. And the first time we were going to attempt it, the Lord sent us an angel-friend-helper. (Timeout for true-story-side-note: We were on our way to dinner that night, a little skeptical about whether we could handle it when a dear friend literally pulled up next to us at a red light. RRL and I looked at each other, instantly knew we had our answer, rolled down the windows for a quick convo, and she said she would go to dinner with us. Isn't the Lord creatively delightful?)
We don't get out much.
But gradually we are getting out more.
I've mentioned approximately 12836 times on this blog, that sweet RRL often puts up with (and plays along with) my hare brained ideas. So it will be no surprise to you that when I glossed over the detail of having to get six children ready
(which required stickers being affixed to 6 matching shirts)
and skipped straight to the part about continuing a tradition and celebrating one of our favorite holidays,