I used to draw oodles of stick people scenes like this when I was a girl. A sledding hill with little stick sledders, legs bent at right angles on stick toboggans with scarves flying straight back in the wind and little pom-pom stocking caps. There was always an ice skating pond too. Today though, the scene was just a mass of real stick figures scurrying for prime real estate on one lone hill in these flat, farmlands.
I could never have imagined then that some of the little people on the hill would someday belong to me. Yet here they are in the flesh. What a thrill to see them run up and slide fearlessly down on snowboard and saucers.
This one didn’t slide.
But this one did-twice-and lived to tell about it.
Mom even got to go down once with her.
And these three had their fill.
We were missing two as they were off sledding with friends. As my mama “call” brought them running, I sat thinking of him. Pencil and wide-ruled paper long ago could never have known all that the years would tell. Thank you God, for these sweet gifts we’ve known together in our flesh and blood children! Thank you for this good day!