I don't make an emotionally good pregnant woman. Sure, I fly through the first trimester with nary a wave of nausea, but my emotions run the gamut and I find myself lecturing, yelling and watching myself be genuinely unpleasant to be around at times. I pray for calm frequently.

Over the weekend, Justin and I were discussing this excellent children's book we'd read to the kids for bedtime called I Remember Papa. In the book, the boy saves up all his quarters from working on the farm to buy himself a baseball glove. Finally he gets his chance to go to the big city with his dad who needs new work boots and who has saved up enough to take the two of them to a baseball game. After the game, the boy's money is gone, but instead of a lecture, the dad buys the glove he's been longing for and they glue the work boots back together when they get home.

We were discussing how sweet the story was and how it showed an act of grace and how the boy learned more from his father that day than a lecture would have taught. I said that I found the lesson particularly meaningful and one that I hoped to follow more often, because it was a wise one.

The Boy piped up, "Mom, you yell a lot. I think you'd better read that book a million times if you want to learn that really well."

Thanks son.