Chris made an interesting comment yesterday. She's done that an awful lot in our 35 years together. I'm learning to pay close attention to that woman! It's like with your parents - the older you get, the smarter they get. Anyway, Chris was talking to a friend up here and I heard her say, "We're in grandparent heaven." Now there's a very bold, positive, optimistic outlook on being refugees from our home, our town, our church family.
Family. Now, that's what makes this whole, horrible, frustrating nightmare bearable. Well, OK, I admit it. Sometimes even enjoyable. One day a guy from the church up here knocked on the door and said, "I hear you have some extra children here. I have something I think they might enjoy." Then he proceeded to set up one of those huge, air-filled, bouncy-house thing-a-ma-bobs in the back yard. His company had one they had not yet rented, so he "didn't want it to go to waste." Then, later in the week, when someone had reserved it, he came and got it ... and left a bigger one! There's nothing quite like rolling around in a huge bouncy house with two 2-year-olds and a 4-year-old, throwing them against the walls (really soft walls!), and delighting in hearing them laugh until they have to lie still just to catch their breath.
And then there's the whole sleeping on the floor thing. No one can make an experience that comes perilously close to camping (aargh! My personal nemesis!) turn into an adventure on a boat or an indoor bouncy house (we've gone through one air mattress already) quite like a 2-year-old early in the morning.
And, ahh, those mornings! I love them. I'm a morning person anyway (to Chris' chagrin). As I sit on the floor with my cup of coffee and my journal, I find myself watching ... waiting ... for those first sounds of morning that only an under-five marvel of creation can make. I especially enjoy watching Zak in the morning. He's two, and it takes him awhile to get fully revved up, but when he does, he likes to announce everyone's entrance. That means he treats his first realization of someone's presence as if they had just materialized in a Star Trek transporter beam. "MeeMaw's awake.! "There's Dad-Dad!" "Hi, Nani!" And each time the wonder in his voice mixes with excitement and comes out as the best greeting of love anyone could ever receive.
Families are supposed to be like that. And the church, that genius way Jesus thought up to keep his people together - the Church - is supposed to be a family. Loving together, laughing together, and glowing with excitement when one of us walks into the room. As a certain "Visual Verses" says (remember them?), "Be completely humble and gentle. Be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of black-eyed peas - oops, I mean peace!" (Ephesians 4:2-3). Hey! I remembered it. Did you?
Grandparent heaven. Family. Seaside.
Father, I really love being here with my family, with Jachin and Zakary and Micah. I really appreciate the bond Chris and I have with Kel and Christina and Josh and Christi. But we miss Nathan and April. And we miss our other family - Seaside. Keep them safe. Draw us back together soon. Amen.
I love you, Family!
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