I was apparently known for always carrying a bag of some sort and always having lots of snacks for the boys to eat and other wonders. I often pushed the boys in a baby buggy made for two that my Uncle Regene had sent down or rode my bike with Dalton in the baby safety seat and William in a little over the handle bar chair made of metal tubes and plastic strips. Those were the days. While the church was being built and lots of boards were here and there, Dalton was always going behind something to do you-know-what in his diaper.
Somehow I lived through those days and am here to tell about them. Now my problems with diapers and bottles and thumbs seem so small and piddly when compared to the problems I face with teenagers and rising young men. Happy Mother's Day out there to all of you missionary mothers. And a happy anniversary weekend to all the folks at the Igreja Batista em Joao XXIII de Fortaleza. Wish we could have been with you, maybe next year!