I didn't get a chance to meet my newest niece.
She arrived at 10:40 am yesterday. She left this morning at 5:30 am. My wife, daughter-in-law and grandkids went down yesterday to greet her. I'll get to see her picture in a while.
Though I didn't buy her casket or funeral plot, I have anticipated her arrival.
When my wife and daughter were discussing her imminent arrival last Wednesday, her spirit visited and said, Hi! while she was on her way to enter her destined physical abode. They said her spirit was strong and bright.
I miss her already.
I look forward to the day when we will meet her and experience her celestial glory.
I work steadily to qualify for that experience.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Memory, revisited
She told me what happened when Silas came over to our apartment the other night.
After I unzipped his coat, Silas took it off and went into our bedroom. He stood in the center of the room for a short space of time, thinking. Suddenly, he turned and went to the closet. The door happened to be open, so he opened the tall jar of candy there and got himself a treat.
Nothing spectacular. Most 19-month-olds probably remember the location of goodie bins from visit to visit at their grandparents.
Silas had a rough night. He wasn't comfortable sleeping at our apartment, apparently. She brought him in, sang him lullabies, rubbed his back and got him to sleep. He woke a few times thereafter, but eventually settled down.
He didn't wake up when I got up for work. But I must've made too much noise after my shower, closing a drawer too loudly, I guess. Anyway, Silas awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. I was standing in the closet doorway, putting on my shirt.
He looked my way.
To my surprise, he walked past me to the candy storage jar in the closet, pulled-out a tootsie roll, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.
We need to keep that closet door closed from now on.
After I unzipped his coat, Silas took it off and went into our bedroom. He stood in the center of the room for a short space of time, thinking. Suddenly, he turned and went to the closet. The door happened to be open, so he opened the tall jar of candy there and got himself a treat.
Nothing spectacular. Most 19-month-olds probably remember the location of goodie bins from visit to visit at their grandparents.
Silas had a rough night. He wasn't comfortable sleeping at our apartment, apparently. She brought him in, sang him lullabies, rubbed his back and got him to sleep. He woke a few times thereafter, but eventually settled down.
He didn't wake up when I got up for work. But I must've made too much noise after my shower, closing a drawer too loudly, I guess. Anyway, Silas awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. I was standing in the closet doorway, putting on my shirt.
He looked my way.
To my surprise, he walked past me to the candy storage jar in the closet, pulled-out a tootsie roll, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.
We need to keep that closet door closed from now on.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Sleep-over
This morning I had breakfast with Silas.
Just him and me at the table together. I had a bowl of Cheerios. He made sure his was a mix of Apple Jacks and Cheerios.
He carefully placed a Jack on his spoon, then lifted it to his mouth. When the Jack fell to his lap, I helped him retrieve it and put it on the table. He promptly decided that the middle-man wasn't needed and put the Jack directly into his mouth.
Silas was over at our apartment because his little brother had a sleep-over of his own going on. The docs wanted to check him for sleep apnia, so he and his mom spent the night at Primary Children's Hospital. They've been giving Gid a full battery of tests since he was diagnosed with Cri du Chat (also known as 5p-minus).
It was fun to have another kid with me at the table this morning before I headed out the door.
Just him and me at the table together. I had a bowl of Cheerios. He made sure his was a mix of Apple Jacks and Cheerios.
He carefully placed a Jack on his spoon, then lifted it to his mouth. When the Jack fell to his lap, I helped him retrieve it and put it on the table. He promptly decided that the middle-man wasn't needed and put the Jack directly into his mouth.
Silas was over at our apartment because his little brother had a sleep-over of his own going on. The docs wanted to check him for sleep apnia, so he and his mom spent the night at Primary Children's Hospital. They've been giving Gid a full battery of tests since he was diagnosed with Cri du Chat (also known as 5p-minus).
It was fun to have another kid with me at the table this morning before I headed out the door.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Preparation
We spent a lot of time and money rebuilding our 72-hour-kits this past weekend.
The focus switched as we organized this time around. Funny, how your perspective will change when you have to re-do something.
This time we purchased water filters. One for her and one for me.
We also bought new backpacks and made sure they had pretty much the same stuff in them in case we get separated.
Trying to prepare for prophesied calamities is about like trying to catch a fly with tweezers. Lots and lots and lots of variables.
At least with bug-out bags ready, we'll be prepared to leave the house in minutes with little effort. I have this sneaking suspicion that when we do leave we probably won't be back in three days. Look at what happened in New Orleans.
There were no Rook cards at Wal-Mart when we went looking. Hmmmm. Still, I did put my new travel Scrabble game in the First Aid duffel bag.
This time we'll keep our packs waiting in the apartment instead of in the back of the Jimmy.
Thank Heavens for my extra job right now...
The focus switched as we organized this time around. Funny, how your perspective will change when you have to re-do something.
This time we purchased water filters. One for her and one for me.
We also bought new backpacks and made sure they had pretty much the same stuff in them in case we get separated.
Trying to prepare for prophesied calamities is about like trying to catch a fly with tweezers. Lots and lots and lots of variables.
At least with bug-out bags ready, we'll be prepared to leave the house in minutes with little effort. I have this sneaking suspicion that when we do leave we probably won't be back in three days. Look at what happened in New Orleans.
There were no Rook cards at Wal-Mart when we went looking. Hmmmm. Still, I did put my new travel Scrabble game in the First Aid duffel bag.
This time we'll keep our packs waiting in the apartment instead of in the back of the Jimmy.
Thank Heavens for my extra job right now...
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Ages, revisited
Once there was a little boy who thought he was twenty.
He pretended that he was like big people around him. He listened to their words so that he could talk like them. He tried to think like them, but never quite got the hang of it.
Eventually he became twenty, himself. He figured his grasp on life was pretty solid. Things fit comfortably into the box. But he still didn't quite think like everybody else, and, as a result, he didn't talk like others at times.
A friend punched him once: "I agree with everything you say, I just can't stand the way you say it!" POW!
The little boy thought about that for a long time.
Eventually he found his match. She was the part that helped him feel whole. She added her perspective to his. He found out the box was shaped much differently than he'd thought previously. She helped him learn how to talk with folks a little better.
They had experiences. They grew common understanding between them. They filled a small apartment with children, then a small house with a big yard.
They followed promptings to move from place to place. They had more experiences. They collected friends. They learned. They grew apart and then back together, successfully. He grew overweight, gray and balder. He listened more and protested less.
Their children married and moved away. The bubses came along.
Funny, he still feels like he is twenty.
He is better able to communicate. But that box has all but disappeared. Things that used to be boxable, out-grew the box a long time ago.
He's still a little boy. At times he pretends he's like the young people around him. When he visited campus a couple months ago, though, he felt like quite an alien.
His understanding about life around him is more tenuous than ever.
He is impatient: has always had a tough time waiting through Christmas eve. The Grand Return is close, and he can't wait for things to get cleaned-up so that He can come back.
Even so, that Return is closer than it has ever been.
He waits; pretending that he's like the people around him.
He pretended that he was like big people around him. He listened to their words so that he could talk like them. He tried to think like them, but never quite got the hang of it.
Eventually he became twenty, himself. He figured his grasp on life was pretty solid. Things fit comfortably into the box. But he still didn't quite think like everybody else, and, as a result, he didn't talk like others at times.
A friend punched him once: "I agree with everything you say, I just can't stand the way you say it!" POW!
The little boy thought about that for a long time.
Eventually he found his match. She was the part that helped him feel whole. She added her perspective to his. He found out the box was shaped much differently than he'd thought previously. She helped him learn how to talk with folks a little better.
They had experiences. They grew common understanding between them. They filled a small apartment with children, then a small house with a big yard.
They followed promptings to move from place to place. They had more experiences. They collected friends. They learned. They grew apart and then back together, successfully. He grew overweight, gray and balder. He listened more and protested less.
Their children married and moved away. The bubses came along.
Funny, he still feels like he is twenty.
He is better able to communicate. But that box has all but disappeared. Things that used to be boxable, out-grew the box a long time ago.
He's still a little boy. At times he pretends he's like the young people around him. When he visited campus a couple months ago, though, he felt like quite an alien.
His understanding about life around him is more tenuous than ever.
He is impatient: has always had a tough time waiting through Christmas eve. The Grand Return is close, and he can't wait for things to get cleaned-up so that He can come back.
Even so, that Return is closer than it has ever been.
He waits; pretending that he's like the people around him.
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