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On the twelfth day of Christmas/Epiphany/Ethiopian Christmas (Genna)/Anna's birthday, we gave her . . . a long journey home. It began with snow and traffic and proceeded through carseat installation problems, missing cash, inability to procure coffee, and blustery bridge crossings. Anna slept in the car (as did Aaron, aka Vicodin Man) but was happy to run around for a while as we unpacked some things before a reasonable bedtime which got her back on our time zone pretty well. She didn't even seem to notice the terrible bitter stench of our twelve-foot memorial to the death of Christmas, or whatever you want to call that stinking dry botanical taking up half our living room. I owe our dog-watcher an apology. And maybe another hundred bucks or two or three.

I was really just glad we got home without any sickness from either end of the girl. That was more than Aaron was able to do on Saturday--she had been sick earlier in the morning and then when he was bringing her home she threw up all over herself and the carseat in the car a couple miles from my parents' house. Upon his frantic arrival as my mom and I were babysitting my nephew, what would have been hilarity if it hadn't been so nasty ensued. It was equally unfunny when I fell for her apparently improved health act and had milk barfed over my shoulder across our bedroom floor. Such a lovely smell for an enclosed space.

Anna was restricted to the BRAT diet for most of the next few days. This was a handy way to suddenly stop giving her milk before naps and bed, just in time for her two-year checkup. Now I don't even have to lie to the doctor (about that...).

Our trip was quieter in some ways, since we were not able to see as many relatives. My grandparents and aunt stayed in Florida this year, and my other aunt and grandmother were not able to come across the state because my grandma actually went into the hospital the day we arrived. She is doing better now and has moved into a rehab place. Traditions changed on Aaron's side too, without the big Christmas day gathering at his grandparents' house, although most of the family made it to his parents' the day we did our Christmas there. I was actually too lazy to make a lot of plans with friends, but a highlight was a breakfast gathering that turned into a downright raucous reunion.

Nonetheless the trip still seemed full and fast, mostly because six adults, a sleep-resistant two-year-old, and a fitful-sleeper nine-month-old in a three-bedroom, one-bathroom house is a lot of fun but not exactly what you'd call a zen-like spa atmosphere. More like a rousing game of baby hot potato, aka "One Up, One Down--Who's Eating and Sleeping Now?" My nephew kind of likes to torture his parents by restarting bedtime a few times per evening. My daughter likes to torture my nephew's parents by making them think she's being tortured as she screams her head off for a handful a dozen an hour of minutes before falling asleep. Whether or not you consider this sleep method cruel, for the record, it is unusual--she fell asleep in all of about thirty seconds tonight.

In comparison, our day today was lazy: three loads of laundry, get groceries, remove scary things from fridge, do dishes, go through mail, take horribly smelly dead Christmas tree down, vacuum, move giant-ass TV and furniture, put away toys, vacuum more, move giant-ass TV and furniture again, wonder why we have giant-ass TV, put away more toys, wonder why we have so many toys, make salsa, watch football. Okay, that football part was pretty nice, though it brought no clarity to the Lions #1 draft pick dilemma.

Can I interest anyone in a smelly, dead, twelve-foot fir tree?

Prayers for Aunt Barb

We pray tonight for my aunt Barb, whose husband Jerry left this earth late last night. It happened so fast; I can't believe he will not be there when we go to Michigan in just a couple weeks. We will miss Jerry's hearty laugh and constantly but good-naturedly teasing Aaron about the Lions. He never got to see the Lions win the Super Bowl, but he will be happy that in heaven there are no 0-and-16 teams...

Barb has family and friends surrounding her with support, but the weeks ahead when things quiet down will be difficult. I am sorry I cannot be there this week but glad it is just a couple weeks until we will see her.


You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love and
Who get hardened in the hurt
Do you remember when you lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread....

I know you bore our sorrows
I know you feel our pain
I know that it would not hurt any less even if it could be explained....

And so, you've been here all along I guess
It's just your ways and you are just plain hard to get

--Rich Mullins, "Hard to Get"

"You can't conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God."

--Graham Greene

Lame Update of the Week

I have finally kicked my cough, though once I finished some rush work on Sunday, I still was low on productivity. Somehow I was still in a fog this week, and Wednesday I was an emotional wreck. Finally yesterday I was able to make progress on my Young Life talk for Monday and some work. Really really need to work lots this next week before the cash flow issues get out of hand.

We got a gianormous TV this week. I mean really ridiculously big. Someone from church was looking to get rid of it and offered it to us. Does my husband ever turn down free electronics? Of course not. And when did he start moving out the old TV and messing with all the wires and receiver? Oh, on Tuesday, just as East Coast polls were closing. NOT COOL. I started getting twitchy watching static as Ohio was about to be called, but he got things plugged in in time for everything important. Waltino was here for a while helping with the TV, the eating of chili, and the exchanging of celebratory terrorist fist jabs (offered for Aaron's bemusement).

No word yet on Waltino's bid for write-in mayoral runner-up. Perhaps it's in a recount. We concede nothing.

Tomorrow our super TV will hopefully bring us the sight of the Lions' first win--though I have stopped holding my breath and almost stopped caring. Unbelievable, I know. Call it a case of "You have to laugh at yourself, because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't."

Speaking of the Lions losing . . . my mom is coming out for Thanksgiving, only two and a half weeks away.

Meanwhile we are missing my cousin's wedding in Florida and the funeral of one of Aaron's aunts, in Michigan. Of course both families would like to have us present and we would love to go, but that's not remotely practical or possible at this time. The un-joys of living far away. We send our thoughts and prayers.

That's all the update I can muster right now--I should be working.

For Anna on Father’s Day

Dear Anna,

Do you know how much your Daddy loves you? You can’t possibly. You don’t hear him whisper “She is so adorable!” when you’re chattering away to yourself or see the goofy grin on his face when you hug him after he’s been gone. He loves you more than anyone and anything. And you think he’s the greatest thing in the world.

You had another father too, in Ethiopia. Even though it’s easier for me to imagine your mother, I try to picture you with your father, and I can’t help but wonder if you’d be a Daddy’s Girl with him too. I think so. Even though we don’t know anything about him, I’m sure he loved you too. I’m sure that if he could see you now, he’d be awestruck at how much you’ve grown and how beautiful you are. If he could carry you on his shoulders and teach you new things, his chest would swell and his face would beam with pride. If you could come running to him, his face would light up and his worries would fade away.

If he were here with you, he’d make you laugh like no one else can, and you’d bring the biggest smile to his face. You’d be your daddy’s little girl . . . just as you are, here, screaming at tickles and running for hugs, your daddy’s precious, treasured girl.

Both your fathers have blessed me so much. I’m thankful today.

Going to Say Goodbye

Aaron’s dear grandmother passed away last night. She had been fighting cancer for months and we knew the time was close. We are thankful Aaron was able to see her a few weeks ago—she even made it to his brother’s wedding. He has an awesome picture of her wearing his sunglasses. Grandma was always so full of life and energy, so caring, so dedicated to praying every day for each of her family members, the hub and the rock of the family. She will be greatly missed. And Grandpa is struggling with changes in his life due to his failing memory as well as this loss. We appreciate your prayers for the whole family.

So Aaron will be going back to Michigan this week to join the family in saying goodbye. We are not sure of the details yet—they are trying to make sure Aaron’s cousin who is in the Marines can make it from California—although I scouted out flights today. They do still offer bereavement fares . . . but they are still really expensive. But eh, what can you do?

Aaron has to give the sermon tomorrow. Then we are going to try to get out to see Indiana Jones, I think, for a little down time . Harrison makey everything better.