(photo bomb by davis--who can never know that he once wore that shirt bronwyn is wearing)
this morning bronwyn was looking for her denim shirt. i told her i had seen it in my closet, next to my two denim shirts.
and then inside i laughed.
because that shirt was the "magic shirt" when we went to california for the funeral.
we were driving from utah straight to the mortuary, before it was going to close. and we might not have thought about the day after new year's traffic from vegas to california. it was a bit of a panicked ride as tim was calling the mortuary guy and coordinating with his siblings and parents about meeting them.
we finally arrived in long beach and had just a few minutes to drop off our kids at dave and chrissy's and run in and change from our disheveled pajama pants. i grabbed my skirt and a denim shirt from the avalanche of suitcases in the back and ran in and changed. and then i realized i had grabbed bronwyn's shirt not mine. but i knew it would take too long to try and find mine and so i just rolled up the sleeves, tried to pull it down a little and called it good.
then, at about 1:00 the night before the funeral i was ironing all our clothes for the next day in the tiny hotel room when i began to panic as i couldn't find davis' white shirt. i opened all the drawers, the suitcase, searched under the seats in the car. no white shirt. the only other shirts i had packed for him were t-shirts with loud team prints. we started searching for a walmart or target. there was not one close by.
so i began to pray.
hard.
i looked through all the same places again, hoping that white shirt would magically appear, as it often does after those desparate prayers.
no shirt.
we were doomed. we needed to be at the church for the viewing at 9:00 the next morning. there was not enough time.
and then i saw it.
the magic shirt.
the shirt i had worn the night before.
i held it up under his blazer and thought it might just work.
and then tim and i began to pray.
a lot harder than we had prayed to find the shirt.
that davis would NEVER know that it was bronwyn's shirt.
that i could convince him to wear a denim shirt in the morning.
you see, he is a little picky about his clothes. ahem. a lot.
and i knew it would ruin his whole experience at the funeral if he felt uncomfortable the entire time.
the next morning
i present the magic shirt.
i said all the boys wanted to wear blue, for uncle steven.
he didn't even blink.
and he seemed pretty okay when i had to safety pin the collar back and tuck up the sleeves.
it was a miracle.
a tender mercy.
the miracle of the magic shirt--that bronwyn, davis and i all wore in a space of three days.