Prairie Pining

I am meeting a good friend for lunch today.

She has raised her children and doesn't have any twitches that I can notice.

I'm going to ask her if she ever imagined moving her brood to a little house on a prairie at any time during their growing-up years.

I already bought an apron. And I think decorating a log cabin would be fun. I'm looking forward to my children telling me heartwarming stories about Miss Beadle (the original teacher in Walnut Grove) instead of "George taught me every single cuss word there is today."

But then I remembered Nellie Oleson and her mother, Harriet. And rattlesnakes. And having to wear a bonnet to bed because of the cold.

Hmmmm. Moving would be awfully expensive and I don't know if my husband could get a job at the lumberyard where Charles works....

I guess we'll stay put for now. But the next time the neighbor's dog barks, I'm closing my eyes and pretending it's Jack.

Lord, help us live a prairie life right here in the city. We are aliens and strangers in this world (1 Peter 2:11) and as my children age, I'm feeling increasingly peculiar and uncomfortable. And PS: please help my children keep all this new-found "knowledge" to themselves!