Terrific Two's

Two year olds are special little creatures. On one hand, they are the most adorable, curious and imaginative at that stage. My favorite pictures of Jaden are from the two year old stage. He has only gotten more handsome and sweet, but he no longer has the chubby cheeks and the curious expressions. Don't get me wrong, I really do not wish to return to Jaden's second year... it was a tough one. I just remember how precious he was when he wasn't being, well, terrible. On the other hand, just look at the pictures. This is the typical "terrible two's" you hear about, but never fully expect to experience. It really begins around one, and starts to fade away around three. However, the very *best* of it happens right around two to two and a half. It's hard sometimes, but it's a normal stage and I wouldn't trade the good times to avoid the bad. I love these little people so much. This is Baylee from just the other day. The one of Jaden was taken right at two and a half. [and no, neither of them are pretending] It really reminds me how I'm not much different from a two year old. I have a heavenly father who loves and cherishes me, and works all things together for my good. And yet, I find myself in the same stubborn, selfish, rebellious state as my little ones. I think, "if they just knew that I am doing ___ for their good." How often He must think the same thing of me. And yet, when I look at these pictures, I can't help but have a soft spot for my little sinners, even in the midst of their sin. How much more does God love us, even in our sinful state. How blessed we are!

The love of God is greater farThan tongue or pen can ever tell;It goes beyond the highest star,And reaches to the lowest hell;The guilty pair, bowed down with care,God gave His Son to win;His erring child He reconciled,And pardoned from his sin.

Refrain:Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!How measureless and strong!It shall forevermore endure—The saints’ and angels’ song.

When hoary time shall pass away,And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,When men who here refuse to pray,On rocks and hills and mountains call,God’s love so sure, shall still endure,All measureless and strong;Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,And were the skies of parchment made,Were every stalk on earth a quill,And every man a scribe by trade;To write the love of God aboveWould drain the ocean dry;Nor could the scroll contain the whole,Though stretched from sky to sky.